


LA: Consequential

by AnirtakShenwoi



Series: Billary AU's A/S [3]
Category: Bill Clinton - Fandom, Billary - Fandom, HILLARY CLINTON - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-02 13:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10945920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnirtakShenwoi/pseuds/AnirtakShenwoi
Summary: Hollywood.  Tinsel Town.  La La Land.  Sounds great when fame, sex, and lust are your top priorities, but for political journalist Hillary Rodham, the characteristics of Los Angeles are merely a barrier to her idealistic worldview.  As host of “Hot Topics with Hillary,” she longs to make the world a better place—even if sex and lust are vices that permeate her personal life.  Things become more challenging when TV heartthrob, Bill Clinton, enters her life.  Will he woefully disrupt her perfectly planned world, or will he shake it up in the most perfect way?(Set, 1991)100% fiction





	1. Failure

**Author's Note:**

> Okay guys, “It is finished.” This was another AU idea that “gefiltefishwhereareweonthis” encouraged, and I’m happy she did. This story is based extremely loosely on a variety of pictures I saw of Hillary on Tumblr where she looked like a TV host. I have posted those pictures in the chapters where they’re relevant (and the one in the first chapter is fucking huge! I posted it at the end of the chapter for that very reason, haha). 
> 
> Because this story is set in 1991, I have also posted music throughout the story from that era. The links in the text should take you directly to their YouTube videos when available. Also, this story takes place in a completely different universe than my current Billary series. I do plan to update that one soon, especially since the new semester starts in two weeks (ugh!!!). I plan to post this story in a piecemeal fashion, but don’t fret! The chapters are super long and detailed. Plus, I’ll post three to begin with ;-)
> 
> I had a wonderful time writing this, and I really hope you all enjoy it. As always, if you are easily offended, please don’t read this story. There are plenty of other stories that should cater to your sensitivities.

Although a local newscaster had fried an egg on the pavement earlier that morning, the executives still refused to turn on the air conditioning. The sweltering temperatures inside the heavily lit studio only thickened the discomfort already in the air. Watching her from behind the lights, Nancy tried her best not to wince. To her side, she saw the director nod off from boredom. He never listened when she rattled on about policy.

"And now," Hillary begrudgingly read in a robotic tone, "We will move on to the segment, ' _Things I Can't Cook_ '." She walked to the nearby kitchen set, glancing down at the unpeeled apples and store-bought pie crust. A bead of congealed hair gel rolled down her forehead, and because of the silence, it audibly hit the top of the aluminum pie plate. "The Frugal Gourmet is here," she said, extending her arm to the backstage entrance, "And he will show me how to bake an..." she squinted, unable to see clearly without her glasses, "An apple pie."

"Oh, geez..." Nancy murmured, seeing the writing on the wall. 

"Cut!" the director yelled, nearly falling out his chair while waking. "I think it's best we end it here, Hillary." He walked towards her.

"But we haven't even started the segment."

He shook his head vigorously, "We're done for today." He rested his hand on her back as they headed backstage.

"But what about the Frugal Gourmet?" she asked, nearly tripping from his speed. "He took his time to come here."

"Yes, Hillary, but unless your goal is to be a sleep aid..."

"Pete."

He paused, taking a deep breath. "I talked with the network this morning, and they're replacing you with a children's show."

"A children's show?! My show is about issues that actually matter in the lives of families!" He nodded, keeping up his quick pace. "…except for that horrible segment. ' _Things I Can't Cook_ '? It's disgraceful. Who came up with that?"

"Our test audience. You have a likability problem, Hillary. Don't get me wrong, you have great tits, but that's not enough to make people watch your show."

She stopped walking, staring down the hallway while licking her lips.

"You rate terrible with women. Well, straight women. They hate you, Hillary." She rolled her eyes, tension building in her shoulders. "You may be doing well with the lesbians, but we don't keep research on that demographic." 

They started walking again.

"But what about policy wonks? Or men? Don't they watch?"

He suppressed a laugh, but he couldn't hold back his honesty. "Hills, men don't watch daytime television, and if they did, they'd cut you off after two seconds. You're too fucking smart. It's intimidating."

She stopped walking, furious. "Do you feel intimidated?" 

His heart raced. "Well, when you threw that vase at the cameraman for staring too long, I learned to fear you. But it's to be expected. You're a single woman. You don't get fucked on a regular basis, and women need that. Especially high-strung women like you." Her eyes grew big. "Have you considered putting an ad in the Personals section?" 

"Let's go..." Nancy said, having followed them. She rested her hand on Hillary's back and kept walking.

"Did you hear what he just said to me?" Hillary asked looking back at the man. "I need a vase!"

"That's just Pete," Nancy whispered, walking even faster. "He's an asshole."

"No kidding." 

Hillary slammed her body to the leather couch as Nancy shut the door. She noticed Hillary was crying, so she grabbed some Kleenex and patted the younger woman’s tears. "There, there," she cooed, gently wiping off Hillary's blush. As she did, Hillary sobbed. Nancy wasn't sure if it was from anger or despair, but she let her continue.

The phone rang.

"Just lay right there and cry it all out," Nancy said, grabbing the phone. "Pelosi." She looked back at Hillary and quickly turned around, whispering. "Okay. I'll let her know." She hung up.

"What is it?" Hillary asked, disheveled. 

"They want us out by noon." 

She looked at her watch. "That's in fifteen minutes!"

Nancy nodded. "And they want to keep all the furniture for ' _Shaky Boots and the Backyard Gang_ '."

Hillary looked at her confused.

"It's the new show."

<><><><><>

The hot sun burst through the lined palm trees, highlighting the sprinkles of white in his heavily gelled hair. With the drop top down, he sped through the parking lot blasting  
[“Pour Some Sugar On Me”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AQ4xwmZ6zi4). He didn’t want there to be any room for confusion when he pulled up. Once he stopped at the studio gate, he lowered his aviator glasses to get a better look. She blushed, angling her hip to make her ass seem bigger. 

"Hey, Billy J," the parking guard said, gently licking her finger.

"How are you, darlin'?" he drawled, gazing up and down her body. "Are you the cause for this heat, 'cause your body's smokin’."

She giggled as the cars lined up behind him. "You're such a bad boy, Bill Clinton."

"It's my job," he whispered, reaching out his hand as he leaned back in his leather seat.

"I'm sure all the girl’s try to get a taste of you after the show," she said, feigning annoyance.

"That may be true," he drawled, "but driving past you each afternoon is the highlight of my day."

"Get the fuck out the way!" the driver behind them yelled, honking. 

"Move on, assnuts!" another driver screamed.

Ignoring them, he locked eyes with Michelle, gently grabbing her hand. "I guess I'll see you later, beautiful. You're on shift tomorrow, right?"

She nodded, smiling coyly.

"Well, good. I wouldn't wanna miss that sexy ass after work..."

"Move the fuck on!" another driver yelled, holding down the horn. 

"Or those sexy lips," he said, kissing her hand.

"I'll look forward to it," she whispered. 

He nodded, looking back at Michelle's ass as he drove forward. Distracted, he almost hit a crying Hillary as she pushed her desk chair across the studio lot. 

"What the hell?!" she screamed, dropping her purse as the chair sped off from the gentle blow. 

"Shit!" He jumped out the car and helped pick up her things. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said, gathering herself. 

"You're not hurt, are you?"

"No!" she continued, walking faster. "It's just my luck I'd be hit by a car this afternoon!"

As he watched her storm off, he couldn't help but wonder who she was.

<><><><><>

After eating a full quart of Chocolate Chunk Haagen Dazs while sobbing naked on her bed, Hillary sat at the kitchen table waiting for her daughter to come home. Sullen, she caught her reflection in the microwave, hoping that her eyes would go back to normal before the girl walked in. When Chelsea finally arrived, she immediately dropped her backpack at the front door and headed to the kitchen.

"Mom!"

"I'm right here," Hillary said to Chelsea's surprise.

They hugged, and Chelsea felt the tension in the air. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter, sweetheart."

Chelsea looked at her, quizzically. "You're lying."

"I'm not."

"Whenever you lie, you look extra sweet, and I've never seen you look sweeter." She headed to the freezer.

"I just had an interesting day at work," Hillary said, sitting back down. She felt her sorrow bubbling up, but she swallowed it down. 

"How interesting?" Chelsea asked, heating a Hot Pocket.

Hillary took a deep breath. "Your mother is officially on a path filled with wondrous new adventures."

"They fired you?!"

"Chels..."

"Well, did they?!"

Hillary closed her eyes. "I wouldn't use the word 'fired'. I was 'let go'."

"That's the same thing, though, right?" she asked, focusing on her food.

"Not necessarily."

"But you don't work there anymore?" 

"Well, that's partially true," she said, still trying to sound hopeful.

Chelsea walked to the table. "Well, if you weren't fired, and if you still kinda work there, what will you be doing now?"

Hillary licked her lips. God, she hated not being in control. The only positive aspect to her horrible day was that her daughter was still a precocious child, ready and willing to ask tough questions. "I'm still under contract with the studio, which means I will be paid until the end of the year."

"And after that?" Chelsea asked, holding the food with a napkin before bringing it to her lips.

"Anything can happen," Hillary said, walking to the counter. "Nancy said that the executives have considered adding me to a morning show."

"Like 'The Today Show'?"

"Yes, but the show would only be for an hour."

Chelsea chewed, thinking. "Will we have to move?"

"Maybe, but it's too early to think that far ahead."

"But Mom!" Chelsea moaned, panicking, "All of my friends are in Burbank. My whole life is in Burbank, and soccer season is about to start again..."

"Chelsea..."

"I'm a shoe-in for co-captain. And that doesn't even include ballet. I can be the soloist this year!"

"Chelsea," she cooed, grabbing her daughter's cheeks. "Stop thinking so far ahead. We still live in Burbank, and you're still at your school. Nothing's changed."

"Except you don't have a job right now?"

"Right...but that’s only temporary." 

Chelsea threw the napkin in the trash before hugging Hillary close. And with that gesture, the woman finally calmed. She ran her fingers through Chelsea’s long, curly hair, still so amazed by her baby girl.

“Is this a good time to tell you that I'm getting a C in Math?" Chelsea mumbled, squeezed so tight.

"It is," Hillary whispered, comforted.

"Okay. I'm getting a C in math."

Hillary kissed her forehead and continued holding her close. "Chels?"

"Yeah?"

"You're gonna be tutored on weekends now. No protests."

"But..."

"None."

They let go, and Chelsea nodded before running off.

<><><><><>

She looked over at him before she stood—his face blue from the moonlight's hue, his five o'clock shadow appearing before her very eyes. It was nearly 5:00am, and he knew she didn't like him staying overnight. 

"Al," she whispered. He rolled over a bit before falling back to sleep, and it pissed her off. "Al, wake up," she said tapping his shoulder.

"I'm tired."

"Not my problem."

He rolled again, and she lifted the comforter from him. "Just give me ten more minutes," he drawled. 

"No," she whispered, voice rising. "You need to get the hell out of here. My daughter gets up in an hour."

It took a moment, but he sat on the side of the bed, washboard abs glowing in the moonlight. She stared at him, arms crossed, waiting. Begrudgingly, he stood, stretching before she handed him his clothes. 

"And don't forget your shoes.” 

Miffed, he paused. "Good morning, Hillary. See you at the studio."

She closed her eyes. “They let me go,” she whispered, hating the words.

“Really?”

She nodded, looking away.

“Well,” he said, buckling his pants. “They’ve had me…”

“‘…unconscious since December’. I know, Al.”

“How long can someone lay in a hospital bed with the other cast members sobbing around them? And you wouldn’t believe how taxing the makeup process is,” he said, tying his shoes.

“That’s how soaps go,” she said, wanting him to move faster. 

“Apparently, I’m my wife’s long lost brother,” he said following her down the steps as he buttoned his shirt. “She spent the last four weeks crying at my bedside.”

She opened the front door. “Take care, Al.”

He closed his eyes. “Hillary, when are we gonna have that uncomfortable conversation that we’ve been meaning to have?” She rolled her eyes. “You know, the one where you tell me that I’m not good enough for you, and where I tell you that I’m focused on my work?”

“Would this moment qualify?”

He took a deep breath. “There has to be more to us than just fucking around three to five nights a week,” he said, getting emotional. “It’s lovely, but I’m ready to settle down. Start a family. Meet your daughter.”

“My daughter?”

“Yes. Little Clara deserves to know who I am.”

“Her name’s Chelsea,” Hillary said, even more annoyed. She opened the door wider. 

“Hillary…”

“Bye, Al.”

[](http://s44.photobucket.com/user/anirtakshenwoi/media/IMG_0090_zpski7w2svz.png.html)


	2. Hollywood

Surrounded by ice white furniture in Joe’s high-rise office, Bill couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

“What do you mean they’re cancelling “Filled Condo?! It’s been the top-rated family show for eight years!”

“And like all shows, it must end.”

Bill was furious as he glanced at Joe’s framed photos with the cast—his toothy grin having absorbed the flash in each picture. “What about the Olbert Twins?” Bill asked. “They’re still cute, right?”

“They’ve requested $125 million per episode, and the network can’t meet their demands.”

“Per episode?! For saying ‘You’ve got it, dude’ and ‘Oh, please’? They play one fucking character!”

“I know, Bill, but don’t feel bad. The 18-24 demographic loves you. Hot, sexy Uncle Jimmy Kalapothakos. You were a hit when you shot that music video with your saxophone and opened The Slam Club. And don’t get me started on your catchphrase 'Have clemency.' Makes the girls go wild.”

He thought back regretfully. “I let the middle child cut my mullet.” 

Joe nodded, remembering. “It was one of the best episodes. You wouldn’t believe how many requests we got for strands.”

Bill took a deep breath with his head in his hands. “Well, what now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sure you asked me here for more than this. Where’s the rest of the cast? And who gets to keep Pluto?”

“The dog?”

Bill nodded, teary-eyed.

“He’ll stay with his trainer, Bill,” Joe said, straightening his tie. “Listen, I asked you here because you’ve got an offer for another show.”

Bill’s eyes lit up.

“It’s not an acting job, but I hope that won’t dissuade you.”

Disappointed, Bill squeezed his eyes closed. “I’m an actor, Joe.”

“Yes, and believe me, although you’ll be Bill Clinton, you’ll have to do your fucking best to act happy,” he said, chuckling. “They want you to host a morning show with Hillary Rodham.”

Bill looked at him confused.

“ _Hot Topics with Hillary_?”

He still had no clue.

“The sexy blond who yammers on about government waste and family problems and shit?”

“Never heard of her.”

“Well,” Joe said, sorting through his stack of papers to find the folder, “You’re in for a fucking treat. As per her contract, she must be placed on a show until her contract is up, and to get people to watch it, they need you.” He opened a pack of M&Ms.

“Why me?”

He tilted his head back, filling his mouth with the candy. “We just discussed this,” Joe mumbled. “Women love you, and they _hate_ her. We figure you can have a _Regis and Kathie Lee_ dynamic, except instead of an old man and an annoying woman, there’ll be a young man and an intimidating woman.” He swallowed, handing Bill the folder.

“She can’t be that bad,” Bill said, looking through the paperwork. “I’m sure she has some charisma.”

Joe giggled uncontrollably. “Yeah, well, if anyone can bring it out of her, it’s you. Rumor has it, she’s been fucking Al for years, but she still hates him.”

“Al Gore from ‘ _Weeks of Our Existence_ ’?”

“Yeah, and he’s even more boring than she is. They’ve kept his character on life support since winter but only because they hate his voice. The man has a beautiful face, but that voice is enough to throw a vodka tonic at the screen, am I right?” Joe stood. “Read over everything, and let me know.”

Standing, Bill nodded. “Thanks, buddy.”

“You’re welcome.”

He glanced at his watch. “Shit, Michelle gets off in ten minutes.” He rushed.

“Robinson? Gate security?”

Bill nodded, gathering the folder. 

“You know that’s Barack’s girl, right?”

Bill’s eyes grew big. “Barack Obama from ‘ _While the Earth Rotates_ ’?”

“That’s the one.”

“Well, shit. She didn’t say anything.”

“And you’d better watch out for him, man. He may be cool, but he’ll kick a guy’s ass.”

Bill nodded.

<><><><><>

Dressed in a pink bathrobe with her hair pulled up, she stared at the stereo. She held another carton of ice cream in her arms, still drowning her sorrows with dairy. This was the twelfth time she listened to Bonnie Raitt’s [“I Can’t Make You Love Me”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nW9Cu6GYqxo) that afternoon, and whenever she heard the chorus, she fought back the sobs desperately trying to escape her. 

_KNOCK KNOCK_

She dragged herself to the door.

“Feel any better?” a smiling Nancy asked, already knowing the answer as she walked in.

Hillary closed the door. “Worse.”

Nancy scanned the room, eyes glancing at the balled up tissues strewn across the floor. She focused on the stereo, disturbed by the slow tune heightening the sadness in the darkened room. “Hill, that music is depressing. And have you brushed your hair today?”

“What’s the use?” she asked, sitting back down. “Everything’s falling apart.”

Nancy stepped over newspapers and empty ice cream cartons to open the curtains. “Well” she said, turning off the stereo, “I come bearing tidings of great joy.” She handed Hillary a folder. “They want you for the morning show.”

Hillary’s eyes grew big, excited as she quickly read the contract.

“It’s only for six weeks, but it could get extended depending on how well everything goes.”

Hillary squinted, needing her glasses. “Who’s the co-host?”

Nancy moved a sticky spoon from the couch and sat next to her. “An actor named Bill Clinton, and let me tell you, he’s a heartthrob.” 

“Never heard of him.”

“He’s on that show—uhm—that family show with the three daughters, and the dad, and the uncle and the friend. And they all live in San Francisco or something or other…”

“I don’t watch much TV, Nance, and after what Pete said about me being boring…”

“Don’t worry about Pete,” Nancy interrupted. “I hear he’s sleeping with Lynne Cheney.”

“The executive’s wife?!”

Nancy nodded, grinning. “Dick has it out for him, or at least I think he does. He should. He probably doesn’t, but he should. God, he should.”

Hillary focused back to the papers. “Bill Clinton…” she said whispered, staring at his head shot. She'd be lying if she said he wasn't attractive, so she decided not to say anything.

“I know his agent well,” Nancy said, clinching her fists.

“His agent?”

“Joe Biden, and what a piece of shit he is!”

“Nancy!”

“That man’s fondled me behind more stages than I care to remember,” she said, grinning. “But I don’t hate him for that. He stole my best damn client in ’88.”

“You don’t mean…”

“Ann Richards,” she said, lamenting. “That sassy old broad was my mortgage payment!” She shook her fists to the heavens. “I have a score to settle, so you have to say yes to this job, Hillary.”

“Apparently, I’m not very likeable. What if this Bill Clinton hates me, too?” She grazed his photo with her fingertips, enthralled.

“Well,” Nancy said standing, “At least you’ll be able to get some name recognition in the meanwhile.” She headed to the door.

“Do you have his number?” Hillary nervously asked. “I just— I want to talk to him before I commit to this.”

Nancy nodded, searching through her purse to find his card. “Here.”

Hillary looked down at it, eyes focusing on the golden letters. “Thank you.”

“And I need an answer tomorrow. Sleep on it, and let me know in the morning.” Hillary nodded as Nancy left.

Alone, she stared at his headshot, sealed in the vacuum of an uncanny attraction. “Bill Clinton,” she whispered. Heartthrob? Oh, yes. But she wouldn't let him know it. This was business, and Bill Clinton would never ever see her staring at him in awe. Nope. He would never get that satisfaction, she convinced herself. 

<><><><><>

When Bill walked into his apartment, he threw the folder on the table and began checking his voicemail.

“ _You have three new messages—BEEP_ ”

Listening, Bill pet his dog, kissing his nose.

“ _Hey Billy, it’s Karen. I saw your sexy ass walking across the studio, and I was sad that I didn’t get a chance to say hi…_ ”

He smiled, walking to the fridge.

“ _When I see you next time, I’m expecting a hug and kiss, baby._ ”

“ _BEEP—Next message_.”

He grabbed the mustard.

“ _Hey Billy, you left your shirt over here—the one with that sexy cologne gets me wet_ …”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he spread the condiment on bread.

“ _Maybe you should come by and pick it up, baby_.”

“ _BEEP—Next message_.”

“ _Uhm, hi. This— This is Hillary Rodham_ …”

Bill looked up. 

“ _I’m calling because you’re, well— I may possibly be doing a show with you, and I wanted to touch base to see…to see if…_ ”

He was intrigued.

“ _…I think we should probably meet for lunch to see if we have any chemistry. Well, not ‘chemistry’, chemistry, but to see if we’ll be a match...for the show. Nancy Pelosi gave me your…_ ”

His dog started barking loudly, muting the message. “Quiet, Buddy!” he yelled, enamored by her voice. 

“ _My number is 818…_ ”

He scrambled to find a pen.

“ _…555-1992. Hope to hear from you soon_.”

He rewound the tape, Buddy still barking. “Calm down, boy,” he cooed before hitting play again.

“ _Uhm, hi. This— This is Hillary Rodham. I’m calling because you’re, well— I may possibly be doing a show with you, and I wanted to touch base to see…to see if… I think we should probably meet for lunch to see if we have any chemistry. Well, not ‘chemistry’, chemistry, but to see if we’ll be a match...for the show. Nancy Pelosi gave me your number, so I uhm… I decided to call. My number is 818…_ ”

“Eight, one, eight,” he whispered, wanting to memorize it. 

“ _…555-1992. Hope to hear from you soon_.”

He stopped the tape and sat down. 

God, she sounded wonderful. Nervous. Midwestern. Innocent. He quickly searched through that folder and found her headshot. As he stared at it, he couldn’t help but zone in on her big, blue eyes, amazed at how determined they seemed to be yet how tender they appeared. “Hillary Rodham,” he said breathlessly, smiling as he dropped the photo on the table and left the room.


	3. Mythically

She laid the bathtub covered up to her neck in bubbles. She leaned her head back to the porcelain—water wetting the nape of her neck—blond strands sticking to her smooth skin. 

<><>

Shirtless, Bill built up the courage to dial her number. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous, but for some reason, he felt like this call would somehow transform his life. He shook his head, laughing at the thought. There was no way the conversation would be anything but professional—at least that's what he tried to convince himself.

<><>

She stared at the cordless phone as it rang. Cautious, she lifted her sudsy hands from the water and carefully extended the antenna. “Hello?”

<><>

He was struck by her voice again, and he immediately became nervous. “Uh, hi.”

<><>

“Hi…?” she said, wondering who it was.

“This is— I’m— You called me earlier. I’m Bill Clinton. We may be doing a show together?”

“Yes,” she said, leaning back. “I’m…Hillary.”

There was an awkward silence as neither knew what to say. 

“So, you’re Bill?”

“I am. And uh, you’re Hillary?”

“I am.”

The silence was back—more deafening than before. Hillary hated the awkwardness and decided to speak. “I called you because I've never had a co-host before and…”

“Neither have I. Actually, outside of being a guest on them, I’ve never hosted a talk show. But I like to talk. A lot. Maybe too much, some would say. At least that’s what my grandma would say. She swore up and down I’d end up being a preacher…”

Hillary’s eyes grew big.

“I’d memorize the sermons on Sunday and perform them later that week for her friends when they played Gin Rummy. But then, I decided that I loved the stage more than the pulpit, so I made the trek to Los Angeles from a little town in…”

“Bill,” she interrupted, exasperated. “I got it.”

He swallowed, embarrassed. Hearing the silence, she felt bad. 

“I’ve…never acted,” she said.

He calmed.

“I was in a few musicals in high school, but the director asked me to lip-sync because I’m tone deaf.”

He smiled, wanting her to continue. 

She felt awkward, but she wanted to fill the silence. “Have you ever heard of ‘Bye-Bye Birdie’?”

“Of course,” he drawled, speaking slower. “That’s my favorite musical.”

She hated to, but she smiled. “Well, that was the last play I was in, and since then, I’ve really been focused on helping children and families through my show’s platform.” She took a deep breath, clearing her throat. “But that’s over now,” she sighed.

Hearing her disappointment, he felt compelled to comfort her. “It doesn’t have to be— I’m assuming,” he said, catching himself. “I haven’t met with the producers, but the show seems pretty open ended. I don’t see why you can’t have a segment that focuses on the issues you care about.”

“Maybe,” she whispered, repositioning herself.

“Plus, what’s life about if you can’t help other people?” he drawled, relaxing.

She licked her lips as tiny beads of sweat rolled down her forehead. His voice sounded deliciously sexy, and she was certain he was the cause of her temperature change. “You have a point,” she whispered.

He leaned toward his knees, hearing her professional tone slowly fading away. “Especially,” he said, “if you have the heart for it.”

She couldn't believe how turned on she was. Forgetting that he wasn’t present, she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered, wishing he would be talkative again. “Where are you from?” she asked.

“Arkansas,” he drawled. “How about you?”

“Illinois,” she said, slowly moving her hand down her chest. “A little town outside of Chicago called ‘Park Ridge’.”

He slowly unzipped his pants. “Sounds idyllic,” he whispered. Oh, how beautiful her voice sounded.

She slowly moved her hand down her abdomen. “It is,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “But…I love being here now.” She moved her hand to her inner thigh. 

Bill gently stroked himself, wishing she would continue talking. “What— what do you love about it?”

She gently circled her nub, overwhelmed with pleasure. “The weather,” she said breathlessly.

Bill squeezed his eyes closed, his hand moving up and down his shaft. “I’d love to have a winter…” he drawled, words barely audible.

She could hear arousal dripping from his lips, drops of fire descending and joining her ever growing flame. “It’s— It’s overrated,” she mustered, continuing her ministrations. “I prefer temperate weather," she said, slowly entering her heat.

They stopped talking, both pleasuring themselves to the idea of the other—both amazed by the unspoken connection. Her voice made his manhood pulse, and he wanted to keep her talking. “Your voice is…” he mustered, wishing he hadn’t.

Her head writhed across the edge of the tub—her mouth suppressing the moans trying to escape her. “Bill…”

As his testicles tightened, he jerked faster. “Hillary…”

She tried to speak, but she was awash in absolute pleasure, her loins exploding in joyous satisfaction, her heart racing beyond measure. She took in a hard breath, hoping he didn’t notice, astounded by what she’d done.

He yanked himself twice more, gripping the phone so tightly that he was certain he’d break it. He let out quick, shallow breaths, hoping that she didn’t notice either.

Coming down from their orgasms, they remained speechless. The intermittent drops from the faucet filled the open space serving as a timekeeper in their eternal moment. His breaths filled the room, ears heightened, hoping to hear something, anything, that would explain what happened.

“Hillary?” Bill asked, wondering if she was still there.

She tried her best to compose. “Mmmhmm?”

He leaned back, sated but pining for her voice. “Would— Would you like to…?”

<><>

“Hillary,” Al said, swinging open the bathroom door as he unzipped his pants. “You wouldn’t believe the traffic on the 405. I’ve needed to piss for an hour.”

Bill’s heart dropped.

She sat up, snapping back to reality. “I have to go,” she said, not wanting to, but stunned by what she'd done.

“But maybe we can…?” 

“And they’re still doing construction,” Al said, voice echoing off the porcelain walls along with the sound of his urine. “Construction during rush hour? What type of bullshit…?”

She held the phone with both hands, embarrassed about her actions but determined to compose. “I’ll have Nancy contact Joe for our first meeting. Then we can come up with some ideas for what the show needs.”

“Alright,” Bill drawled, swallowing. He wondered if it were all a dream.

“Bye,” she said, quickly placing the phone back on the receiver and covering her mouth from the shock. 

Al flushed, walking back to the tub and staring down at her as he zipped his pants. “They’ve decided to wake Zane Charles, Hillary. Next week, I’ll be out of the coma, even though I still don’t have any lines. I’m not sure if my wife’ll reveal our status as siblings, but I’m up, Hills!” He bent down and kissed her forehead before taking off his shirt.

As she lay in the tub, she couldn’t get her mind off Bill Clinton.


	4. Awe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to upload three chapters today. I hope you all enjoy!

“Now,” Nancy said, walking quickly down the back hallway with Hillary. “You go in there, and you show him you have the chops to do this show, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And don’t be afraid to show some cleavage. Many women got to the top in this business by showing their tits. And you have very nice tits, Hillary. He’ll love them.”

“But…”

“Have you seen his girlfriend’s rack?” Nancy asked, heels echoing off the ceramic floor. “Melons, Hillary. Gazoombas.”

"Lynne doesn't have big breasts," Hillary said, confused.

"Of course she doesn't. She's his wife." Nancy pushed open the metal door, continuing down an even longer hallway.

Hillary felt overwhelmed and stopped walking. “I’m nervous.”

Nancy rested her hands on Hillary’s cheeks. “Oh, Hill, how can you be nervous about meeting with a fat man named Dick?”

<><>

Nancy swung open the large office doors and was immediately stunned. "What the hell are you doing here, Joseph?!"

He turned around, grinning as he stood. "Nancy, Nancy, Nancy. Long time, no touchy, but I see your breasts are still high for the grabbin'..." He rested his hand on her lower back, nuzzling to her neck as she giggled. 

Realizing she was losing her resolve, she pulled away, clearing her throat. "This is business," she said, straightening her suit jacket.

"And I'm here to do business," he whispered, grabbing her ass. 

"Stop it, you dirty bastard," she giggled, not wanting him to stop at all. Disgusted, Hillary looked away, and Nancy cleared her throat again. "This is Hillary Rodham," she mustered. "Hillary, this is Joe Biden."

"Au chante," Joe said, kissing Hillary's hand. She rolled her eyes, not so easily smitten. "Tough one, huh? Figures," he said, rolling his eyes as he strutted back to his seat. "If you were an actress, you'd be groveling at my..."

"Joe!" Nancy yelled, catching the twinkle in his eye and suddenly melting from his charm again. She sat on his lap, crossing her legs.

"Bill should be here any moment now," Joe said looking to the door while moving his hand up Nancy’s skirt.

Hillary's heart raced as soon as she heard his name.

"Where's Dick?" Nancy asked as her hand rested on Joe's cheek.

"Probably taking a leak. You know guys named Dick usually don't have big ones."

Nancy nodded, and Joe began tickling her. The longer Bill took to arrive, the faster Hillary’s heart raced. She took a seat close to the window, fidgeting with her necklace as a distraction.

"Hello," Bill drawled, cautiously entering the room. Nancy immediately stood, and introduced herself. Hillary stood too, amazed at how much more attractive he was in person. 

"And this is Hillary Rodham," Nancy said, stepping back. 

Bill stood in front of her, barely breathing as he stared down at the most beautiful woman in the world. She looked better than the picture, big blue eyes sparkling, blond hair gently caressing her stately neck. His body immediately fought him, tongue suddenly dry, eyes unable to blink. "I'm Bill," he finally mustered, hoping against hope that his semi wasn't obvious. 

She gently grabbed his hand, enamored by his long fingers and rough skin. She looked into his eyes, struck by their gentle blue hue, oceans of time and space condensed into tiny orbs piercing into hers. Her mouth moved, but she couldn't speak.

"...Hillary," Nancy whispered, nudging her.

She licked her lips, never moving her gaze from him. He didn't move his, either—his hand so thankful to be holding hers. "I'm...Hillary," she finally mustered.

He swallowed. "It's— it's very nice to meet you, Hillary. In person." 

She nodded, "In person," she whispered.

He led her to a seat as Nancy watched them, completely confused. "If this is how they're acting now, this show's gonna be a colossal flop," she whispered, sitting next to Joe.

He looked over at them, smiled, and leaned close to Nancy. "Shit," he whispered, "They're about to fuck each other's brains out. That'll make for _great_ TV."

"Alright, alright," Dick Cheney said, hobbling into the room while zipping his pants. Joe straightened up, and Nancy looked down. "Where are the actors?"

"Uhm," Nancy said, looking up. "My client, Hillary Rodham," she said, pointing to Hillary, "is not an actor. She's a political journalist."

" _My_ client is the actor," Joe said, popping his collar. "Bill Clinton, TV heartthrob, all around ladies man."

Cheney looked at the Bill and Hillary, each wide-eyed. He grunted before taking a seat. “Well, you have two minutes to pitch this show before Candy gets here.”

“Okay,” Nancy said, standing. 

“No,” Joe said. “Let me, Nance.” She sat, excited to see him work his magic. “Executive Vice President Cheney, when you’re at home in the early morning, drinking coffee with breast milk as creamer, don’t you enjoy kicking back and flipping to the ‘Today Show’? Think about it—Katie Couric, Bryant Gumbel. Gosh, they’re so hot aren’t they?”

Cheney took a sip of his boiling hot coffee.

“You have celebrities; you have news. It’s a perfect combination of everything horrible in television… _yet_ there’s no celebrity host. And that’s where Bill Clinton comes in.” Cheney looked at Bill, nodding. 

Not wanting Hillary to be left out, Nancy stood. “Now, uhm, Mr. Cheney, Hillary Rodham has the expertise that you need to keep the show a news program. She has worked extensively with children and families and has been instrumental in bringing…uh, bringing _important issues_ ,” she said, glad to have found the words. “…to the forefront.” Cheney looked at her, unimpressed. “And,” Nancy said, signaling Hillary to unbutton her shirt, “Hillary makes sure to exercise every night.” Nancy nodded, watching as Hillary slowly unbuttoned her top.

“God, I feel ridiculous,” Hillary thought to herself. When she looked up, Bill was staring at her chest, wide-eyed. He thought he’d explode if she freed another button.

“…and with her, uhm, expertise,” Nancy said, moving her hand around in circles, hoping she’d continue to show more cleavage, “I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.”

Cheney looked at Hillary’s chest, making her feel incredibly vulnerable. He turned back to Nancy and Joe, having made his decision. “Fine.”

They looked at each other and turned back to him.

“Greenlit,” he said, waving his hands in the air for everyone to leave. Hillary quickly buttoned her shirt, and Bill finally took a moment to blink.

“Thank you, Executive Vice President Dickerson Aloysius Cheney. It will be an honor to work with you throughout…” Joe said as Nancy yanked him towards the door. Hillary followed quickly after, feeling disgusted. Bill followed behind, taking in the faint scent of her perfume.

<><><><><>

Walking across the studio lot, the couples split.

“Why did you call him Aloysius, Joe?” Nancy asked, as he copped a feel.

Joe shrugged. “He looks like his middle name would be Aloysius. Something about his face has a douchy quality that denotes ‘Aloysius’ to me.” She giggled, and he pulled her closer. Afar off, Hillary followed, still out of sorts because of Bill.

“Uh, hey,” Bill said, jogging to catch up with her. She looked back, heart racing as she saw his face glistening with sweat. “Can we uh, maybe go out to lunch?” he asked, glancing at his watch. “I know you said you’d like to see if we have chemistry— for the show,” he emphasized, swallowing. “There’s a nice little eatery on San Fernando if you’re interested.”

She paused, trying to find the words. “It’s getting late, and I’d like to be home when my daughter gets off the bus.”

“You have a daughter?” he asked, suddenly loving her more. “What’s her name?”

Hillary looked away, not ready to become so personal. “Chelsea,” she said, clearing her throat before looking afar off. 

“That’s a pretty name. My niece’s name is…”

“Bill! Come the fuck on!” Joe yelled, jumping in his Jeep Wrangler. 

Bill looked over, speechless. He locked eyes with Hillary, trying to find the words.

“Stop trying to get some ass, Bill! She’s probably fuckin’ married!” Joe pressed his hand to the horn, not letting up until Nancy swatted it away.

“Ignore him,” Bill drawled, even more entranced by her. She licked her lips, and without realizing it, they moved closer to each other. He rested his hand on her shoulder, cautious about caressing her neck like he desired. She hoped that he’d continue on his mission, tilting her head ever-so-slightly to give him the invitation.

“Bill! Michelle’s waiting on you at the gate!” Joe yelled, laughing hysterically. 

Once Hillary heard the words, she moved away. “No thank you to the offer,” she said, walking quickly to her car.

“Hillary!” he called. She didn’t turn around, and he closed his eyes, already planning to kick Joe’s ass. As she walked across the lot, he was determined to find a way to make her his own.


	5. Mythically II

Although she’d made dinner for Chelsea, Hillary didn’t have the desire to eat since that morning. Plus, after meeting Bill for the first time, any attempt at consumption was lost on her. “Michelle,” she whispered, sitting naked on the edge of the tub as she filled it with water. The name echoed through her mind, snapping her back to the reality that she and Bill were only coworkers. She shook her head as her tongue grazed her lower lip. Thank God she found out before she did something foolish. Testing the water’s temperature with her hands, she swallowed, consuming the shame she felt but wouldn’t acknowledge. The last thing she needed was to fall in love anyway. Besides, Al was still around, even though he was more of a fuck buddy than anything else.

She turned off the knobs and carefully sat in the filled tub. As she sank into the water’s depths, she closed her eyes. “A morning show?” she whispered, thinking about how many things would need to change to accommodate it. She’d have to leave extremely early, and Chelsea would need someone to see her off to school. Asking Al crossed her mind, but she remembered that he and the girl had never actually met. The one time they did cross paths, Hillary told her that he was the plumber.

The phone rang, and she stared at it, knowing who it was. Thinking fast, she got out the tub and locked the bathroom door. There was no way she’d let Al interrupt her again. As she sank back into the water, she tried to calm herself, already feeling the heat rushing to her center. However, she was determined to stay composed. Determined to remain in control.

“Hello?”

He took a deep breath. “Hi Hillary.”

And she leaned back to the porcelain again, mouth open to suppress the moans trying to escape her. _Damn that southern drawl_. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he nervously said, tight jeans becoming tighter, bare chest flexing involuntarily. He licked his lips, at a loss for what to say next.

“Why are you calling?” she asked stoically. “ _There you go_ ,” she thought to herself. “ _Stay in control._ ”

He was a bit startled, but he trudged on. “I’m calling to explain what happened, or well— Joe can be a…”

“You don’t need to explain anything to me,” she interrupted.

“I know, it’s just— Joe says things— Things that, uh. He talks out of his ass a lot of the time, and I didn’t want you to think that I…”

“What? That you were trying to make me another notch on your belt?”

He furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about, Hillary?”

She could hear her heartbeat in her ears. “I know you have women fawning over you all the time. And just so you know, I won’t be one of them.”

He clinched his jaw, purposely working to keep an even tone. “I’m not in control of how women feel about me,” he said, wishing he didn’t. She nodded as he dug a deeper hole for himself. “Not that I’m proud of the attention,” he said, wiping his brow. “I’m…I’m not the kind who…”

“Who gets a thrill from being a playboy?”

“A playboy? Where did you get that from?”

Tears welled in her eyes, and it pissed her off. “I don’t have time for this.”

“You don’t have time to talk to me? I’m…” he said, shaking his head and standing. “Hillary, I’m not trying to manipulate you into anything. I know we’ve just met, but you have an aura about you— one that’s rare in Hollywood.”

“An aura of naivety?” she mustered, repositioning herself. Her tears began to fall, and she knew she’d say something she’d inevitably regret. “ _Damn those emotions_.”

“Of course not,” he said, softening his tone. Just hearing his drawl made her hand slowly move to her thighs. “You’re clearly smart, even though you—”

She stopped her movement.

“…fuck,” he whispered.

“Say it,” she retorted, ready to explode.

He closed his eyes. “You don’t have to do things like that, Hillary. If people can’t accept you for who you are, then they’re not worth your time. Cheney sure isn’t.”

She sat up, ready for battle. “I don’t need your advice. I take care of myself and my daughter, and the last thing I need is for some…some actor to tell me how to live my life.”

He nodded, miffed. “Alright.”

They sat in silence, both perturbed but neither wanting to end the conversation. She stared down at the water, watching the intermittent drops ripple across the surface. He focused on the wall in front of him, counting the little grooves left by the recent paint job. She wanted him to speak, her body still aroused from his tone. He wanted her to calm down, feeling like whatever chance he had with her had been crushed to oblivion.

“Are you still there?” she asked, taking control.

“Yes.”

They paused again, still staring each other down in that mythical squared circle. 

He knew that he shouldn’t, but he just had to know. “Is her father in her life?”

She paused, repositioning herself again. “He’s in a vial over on 7th.”

“A vial?”

She took a deep breath. “I don’t know who Chelsea’s father is, Bill. I wanted to have a child, so I took the proper steps to have one.”

He was stunned. “Okay,” he said, at a loss for words. But then they came back, and he just had to know more. “But what about Al?” he asked, so confused. 

She couldn’t believe it. “Who told you about Al?”

“Shit,” he whispered, taking a breath. “Joe told me you and Al were together.”

Her nose flared. “I have to go.”

“Please,” he said, standing. “Don’t go. I’m sorry if I overstepped my bounds, but…there’s just something about you, Hillary.”

“There’s nothing about me.”

“There is,” he drawled, desperate for her to stay on the phone. “You’re…you’re beautiful.”

She closed her eyes, unconsciously moving her hand back to her heat. 

“You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. And gorgeous curves.” He stopped himself. “I’m sorry for being so forward.”

She listened to him breathe, each exhale more arousing. 

“Hillary?”

“…hmm?”

He sat, slowly unzipping his jeans. “I want to get to know you better,” he drawled, holding his hard member in his hand, desperate to be inside of her.

Unable to mask it, she moaned, squeezing her eyes closed as she gently caressed her nub. Once he heard it, he began stroking himself, unable to fight the urge. “Hillary…” 

She moaned again, this time, so blatantly that he heard the uptick in her breathing. “Fuck…”

He stroked himself faster, ass twitching with each thrust. “Fuck…” he moaned, voice shaking.

Knowing what he was doing, she humped her hand harder, completely open for him. It was almost like he was right there, her ministrations mentally from his hand. “Tell me a story,” she mustered, needing to hear his voice.

“A story?”

She nodded. “Anything. Just tell me anything.”

He squeezed his eyes closed, rough skin squeezing his tender places. “Your voice gets me so hard,” he drawled.

“ _Oh_ …” she moaned, loving his.

“When I saw you earlier today…” he said, still jerking himself, “I wanted to fuck you right on top of Cheney’s desk. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Fuck!” she yelped, forgetting about Chelsea.

“I…I want you to fuckin’…fuckin’…get to…fuck.”

“Tell me,” she moaned, right on edge. 

“I…I want you to fuckin’ ride me right now.”

She wanted to ride him, too. Ride him all the way to the moon. She squeezed her eyes closed, imagining the scene as she rode out the waves of her orgasm. “Oh…you’re so fuckin’ hard, Bill…fuck me…”

He stroked so fast that he bent at the waist, his essence mentally coating her throbbing walls, finally connecting with her tender place.

Her head writhed along the edge of the tub, heart slowly coming back to its normal pace, body spent and desiring to lie across his broad chest as her fingers gently ran down his skin. He squeezed his eyes closed, coming back to earth, realizing that this was their second encounter without being anywhere near each other. He was stunned speechless, wanting to ask how it was for her, but still having doubts that it actually happened.

“Hillary?”

“…hmm?”

<><><><><>

The neon clock illuminated the space just enough for her eyes to see. She stared at the ceiling then looked over at a sleeping Al. His chest was perfectly chiseled, but she could care less. She looked back to the ceiling, the stucco a reflection of her nerves. What had she done? Or did she do anything? But there was no way he didn’t know what she did. She knew what he’d done. Or did she? She closed her eyes, lifting the comforter to her neck in attempt to go to sleep. Right then, Al rested his hand across her midsection, pulling her closer. She was oddly grateful for the move and even more thankful that he’d gone to sleep without their nightly romp. 

As her fingers gently caressed Al’s hand, she was determined to meet with Bill in person—alone. There was something about him, too, and she needed to find out what it was before they were under the hot lights, in front of the live studio audience, and fucking in their shared dressing room.


	6. Meeting

They decided to meet at The Grove, hoping that the public place would dissuade their mutual desire to fuck each other senseless. Joe had given Bill an updated contract to read, but as he sat at the table, he couldn’t help but ignore it. He scanned his surroundings every so often, not wanting to miss her as she walked up. He rubbed his palms on his jeans. He ran his fingers through his hair, hoping she’d find him presentable.

“Hi,” she said, holding her small purse in front of her thighs. 

“Hi,” he said, scrambling to pull out her chair. 

“It’s fine, Bill. I’ve got it.”

He nodded and swallowed, even more enamored by her. As they sat, words completely failed them. He looked around, hoping that no one would ask for another photo. “Nice weather today.”

She nodded, staring at the menu. “Much cooler than last week.”

He nodded, moving his tongue along his inner cheek. “Good day to golf,” he said.

“To what?”

He looked up. “To golf. I golf when I have the time.”

She quirked her eyebrows, focusing back to the menu. “Have you eaten here before?”

“Yes,” he said, trying to contain himself. “Normally a couple times a week.”

“What would you recommend?”  
" _Me_ ," he thought, suddenly getting it out of his mind. “The BLT.”

“ _Bacon_ …” she whispered, flipping to the next page. “Sounds good.”

“It is.”

She stared at the menu, too nervous to look at him.

“Hillar…”

“Listen,” she said, facing her fear. “We have to talk about what happened on the phone. I need to know— I—” She took a deep breath. “What happened?”

He took a deep breath. “Back home, we’d call it phone sex.”

“God.”

He swallowed. “But here, I guess they’d call it…”

“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“No,” he said tenderly, reaching for her hand. “Neither of us was in control at the time.”

“But both times?” she asked, burying her face in her hands. “Do you even think we’ll be able to work together?”

He caressed her hand, wanting to calm her. “Hillary, there’s no reason why we won’t work well together. I know we’re attracted to each other, but we both take our professional lives seriously, too.”

“I’m not looking for a relationship.”

He was. “And neither am I,” he said.

She nodded, wiping her face to compose. “So what now?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do we do now? We’ve telepathically fucked each other twice before we even learned each other’s middle names, so what now? Where do we go from here?”

 _To my place_. He closed his eyes. “What’s your middle name, darlin’?”

She smiled and looked away. “Diane.”

“Mine is Jefferson.”

“Like Jefferson Airplane?”

He chuckled. “Just like that.”

“First names’ William, I presume?”

“It is,” he said, sex dripping from his lips. “Hillary Diane Rodham. What a beautiful name.”

She blushed.

“Reminds me,” he said, staring at her, “of our phone conversations.”

“God, Bill.”

He smiled. “Maybe,” he said, knowing he shouldn’t, “We can take our order to go?”

As soon as she heard the words, she crossed her legs and licked her lips. 

“Unless you don’t…”

She nodded, still looking away, excited about what the day would bring.

Their hearts raced under the Californian sun, a sexual hunger threatening to consume them before they ordered.

<><><><><>

Nancy and Joe sat across from each other in his office. She was thrilled to be there until she glanced at a framed picture of Ann Richards hung next to a copy of a $500,000 dollar check. She was furious.

“Why am I here, Joseph?”

“Calm down, Pants. We’re going over contracts.”

She glanced back at the photo and clinched her fist. Joe put his glasses on. “So, my client gets $5,000 per show, and your client gets $2,000. Forty percent. More than fair.”

She quickly flipped through the pages. “Are you crazy?!”

“What?!”

“She’s a fucking journalist. She should be making twice as much as your actor.”

“Hey, hey, that actor has a 145 IQ,” he said grinning. “It’s not my fault Bill’s a hot commodity. Besides, your girl didn’t deliver the goods. You thought Cheney would just fall for a couple’a popped buttons? Give me a break.”

“Did he expect to feel her up?!”

“Of course, he did! Stop acting new, Nance. That’s the way this town works.”

She shook her head and crossed her legs. “I barely got her to do that,” she said, glancing back at the Ann Richards photo, completely miffed. “And why do you hang that there?! She was mine, Joseph! I had to put my Calabasas house on the market!”

“She wanted better opportunities!”

“I had her doing commercials!” she screamed, shaking. “Ever since she did that Oscar speech blasting Bush she shot to the moon, Joseph!”

“And she needed someone who could handle the new load!”

“ _If you give us a chance, we can perform. After all, Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did, she just did it backwards and in high heels_! Who do you think came up with that line, Joe!”

“You did!” he screamed, shoving the papers from the table. “You! Who else would spout that feminist bullshit on Oscar night?!”

“Bullshit?! It’s the truth you…you…you backstabbing son of a bitch!”

He charged at her, titled his head, and kissed her passionately. She lifted her thigh, and he held the back of her knee as they nearly devoured each other. He leaned her back to the table, hoisting her up as he tried to unbuckle his pants. She reached down to help him but got her nail caught in his zipper.

“Fuck! You’re pants attacked me!”

“And so will my cock,” he moaned as she spread her thighs before him.

_KNOCK KNOCK_

They looked up.

“Joe!” the man yelled, knocking again. “I know you’re in there!”

“Shit!” Joe yelled, quickly dismounting Nancy. He looked at his watch. “Fucker didn’t have a meeting, did he?”

“Who cares?!” Nancy moaned, pulling up her stockings. “How does my face look?”

“Like it’s waiting for my cock,” he said, grinning.

“Oh…” she said, disgusted as she ran to a picture frame to check herself out as Joe ran to the door. 

When he opened it, Barack punched him in the face. “What the fuck?!” Joe screamed.

Barack shook his fist, having hurt it from the blow. “Nancy,” he said, nodding.

She waved back to him, focusing on her face. Barack looked back to Joe, satisfied by the man’s bleeding nose. “Michelle told me what you said, Joe. How many times do I have to tell you to be respectful?” 

“I didn’t say anything to her!”

Obama reached into his back pocket, taking out a small notepad and clearing his throat. “’Hey, baby, how about I rub that big ass of yours’.” He flipped the page. “’Hey Michelle, _Joe_ is easier to scream than ‘Barack’…’”

“I was only kidding.”

“‘Michelle, let me break off a piece of that funk.’ I don’t know what you meant with that one, Joe, but I think that punch’ll suffice.”

“He had it coming,” Nancy said, picking up the papers. She walked to Joe and patted his cheek. “Later, Joseph.” She gently kissed his lips. “And get that nose checked out. No need for you to ruin the carpet.” 

Once she left, Joe turned to Barack, holding the bridge of his nose. “Are we still on for the game?”

Barack nodded, heading to the door. “I’ll bring the ball. You bring the beers.”

Joe nodded as Barack left the room.

<><><><><>

Shrouded in darkness, Al sat in the faraway chair as she entered her bedroom. He looked upset, and she was certain it had to do with Zane Charles’ fate. 

“Al,” she said, turning on the light.

He looked up at her. “When were you going to tell me, Hillary?”

Her heart raced. “Tell you what?”

He closed his eyes. “Tell me about the talk show.”

She furrowed her brows, placing her purse on the dresser. “I didn’t think about it.”

“How could you not? Do you know what kind of opportunity that would be for me? We could start a petition to get Zane Charles speaking again.”

She shook her head as she walked to the bathroom. He followed her.

“You could have a segment about soap operas,” he said, watching her undress. He saw the hickey on her neck and became silent.

“Why? So you can lament about Zane Charles each morning?” she asked, taking off her bra. She turned around and saw him staring at her neck. She covered the mark with her hand.

“You’ve been with someone else.”

She turned to the mirror. “It’s not what you think.”

“Well what is it?” he asked, scanning her body as she picked up the toothbrush. He cleared his throat. “Who is he, Hillary?”

“Who said it’s a ‘he’?”

He put his hand to his chest and thought back. “Not Nancy,” he lamented. “I know you girls are close, but she’s still your agent, Hillary.”

“ _Not_ Nancy,” she said, perturbed. She brushed her teeth. 

“Well who? I think I have a right to know.”

“You don’t,” she mumbled.

“Hell, Hillary, it’s not like you’re with another man.” Her heart raced. “If there’s another woman we only need to discuss which days I should steer clear.”

“Albert,” she said, wincing. “It’s been a long day. I’m tired, and we’re not exclusive. And give me a break. I know you’ve been seeing that weather girl, Tipper.”

“We are only friends, Hillary.”

“Yeah, right.” 

“It’s true,” he said, suppressing his smile. “Tipper and I just share a mutual appreciation for environmental issues and clean music. She’s made it her personal mission to shield vulgar lyrics from the ears of children. Plus, she hates Florida just as much as I do.”

Hillary rinsed her mouth and walked back to the bedroom.

“I just want to maintain good communication, Hillary. Just tell me who you’re with so we can make some decisions.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, wishing she hadn’t undressed so quickly. “Do you know Bill Clinton?” she asked.

“Of course, I do. He’s president and I’m vice president of the Actor’s Guild. We meet each week to discuss ways to run the club.”

“…shit.”

“What about Bill?”

She closed her eyes. Was there anyone he _didn’t_ know? She thought it best to play it safe. “He’s my cohost. We’re doing the talk show together.”

Al closed his eyes. “Well,” he said, swallowing. “I guess I should be equally upset with him.”

She was confused.

“Damnit!” he screamed, looking towards the ceiling. “Had I known they were looking for hosts, I would’ve considered…”

“Al,” she said, overwhelmed. “Please. Let’s just go to bed.”

He nodded, taking off his shirt before getting in. She turned off the light, curling into herself as she thought back to her tryst with Bill. They’d been interrupted by a fire alarm just as they began undressing. Although they didn’t get far, she was thrilled about how tenderly he touched her. She licked her lips, thinking back to how wonderful his tasted. She wished his hands were on her, touching every single pore of her…

“Hillary?” Al drawled.

“Yes?”

“I’d like to finally meet Clara.”

“It’s Chelsea.”

“Chelsea,” he said, correcting. “Since we’re still together, I feel like she should know who I am.”

Hillary closed her eyes. “No, Al. _I’m_ not ready. And you’re not her father.”

He swallowed, nodding. “Don’t you think she needs one?”

She flicked the light back on and turned to him. “I don’t. If I did, maybe I would’ve conceived her differently.”

“Just because you went to a sperm bank doesn’t mean she doesn’t…”

“Enough! My daughter is my business, not yours.” She rolled back over and turned off the light. 

“Fine,” he said, getting dressed. “I guess I’ll leave.”

She watched as he gathered his things. “Al?”

He turned around.

“You forgot your mouth guard.”

Miffed, he grabbed it and left.


	7. Resist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up in Hollywood! Chapters 7 and 8 today, and tomorrow, I will post 9 and 10. Enjoy!

[](http://s44.photobucket.com/user/anirtakshenwoi/media/IMG_0093_zpshf3xmcdy.png.html)

Hillary watched her as they touched up her makeup. Yep, that whore was eyeing Bill, and yep, she was licking her slutty red lips as she stared. They looked like greasy balloons, squeezing and pressing in effort to seduce him. She pouted them and pursed them. She ran her tongue along the lower before running it slowly across the upper. He fought to avert his eyes, and Hillary fought to stay composed. The woman had been in the audience for the past month, and each day her flirtations became more blatant. Walking back to the stage, Hillary cleared her throat as she looked back to their featured guest, centering herself so not to cause a scene.

“Aaaaaand action!” 

Bill introduced the guest again, his charm captivating the audience. At Hillary’s cue, she sat up straight, professionalism her guise.

“So, you’ve published a book about your son’s experiences?” she asked, tone perfect, jealousy hidden. Her inflection was also perfect for icing Bill out, every syllable showcasing her law degree and her wealth of experience across a variety of fields. She didn’t need him.

Not recognizing her anger, he rested his hand on her knee, and she immediately crossed her legs without ever moving focus. The cameraman noticed the tension and zoomed in on the guest. This was the 90s. America didn’t need to see the backstage drama.

In the two months they’d known each other, she’d heard of Michelle, and Kate, and Lisa, and Pam, _and_ Tiffany, and the more women she saw in his orbit, the colder she became. They hadn’t been physical since they were forced to evacuate his apartment, and Hillary was happy for it. She hated looking like a fool. He noticed her coldness and was taken aback by her seemingly sudden change. Once they’d finished filming, she rushed back to their shared dressing room to remove her makeup and leave as quickly as possible. He quickly opened the door, wanting to address the issue, whatever it was.

“Hillary?”

She glanced at his reflection in the mirror and continued wiping her face. He gently shut the door. “I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

“Well, I guess you’ll stay here forever,” she said, grabbing her purse before heading to the door. 

As her hand touched the knob, his hand held the top closed. “Talk to me,” he drawled. 

She held her breath as she looked down. Her heart raced from his delicious tone, her anger fighting against the arousal pooling at her center. “Move.”

“Hillary, please.”

The ceiling fan loudly churned the warm air of the studio as she thought of what to say next. She wanted to hurt him.

“I’m late for my date with Al.” 

He was stunned. “You’re still seeing him?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“It is, Hillary. I thought—I thought we…”

“We’re just coworkers,” she said, ice in her tone. “Whatever little fling we had is over, and I’m with Al. I love him.” She didn’t.

He felt teary, watching as her eyes focused on the metal frame, wanting so desperately to hold her in his arms and to kiss her tenderly. “Why are you doing this?”

She swallowed, feeling teary, too. “Doing what?”

Nancy quickly opened the door, grabbing Hillary’s hand and yanking her out. “Hurry!”

<><>

Their heels clicked as they walked down the hall. 

“He said it was urgent,” Nancy said. “Could be good. Or bad. But let’s hope good. Yes, let’s stay positive.”

“Why just me?” Hillary asked before turning around to see Bill watching them from afar. 

“Chances are that bastard Joe is trying to renegotiate the contract. What a snake he is.”

<><><><><>

Hillary was stunned as the executive gave his spiel. Apparently, Bill had requested that she get a segment about children and family issues permanently placed on their show. She suddenly felt terrible about how she’d treated him. Nancy squeezed Hillary’s hand in congratulations, and although the agent and executive continued talking, all Hillary could hear were the cold words she’d spat at Bill. She needed to apologize, but she was too prideful to…

“Is that alright with you, Ms. Rodham?”

She looked up and turned to Nancy. “Yes,” she said as though she knew what she was approving.

“My client,” Nancy said, “Is more than happy to come in earlier. Thank you, sir.”

He nodded as Nancy stood. “Earlier?” Hillary whispered as they walked to the door. “I can’t do earlier. I barely see my daughter as it is.”

“Shh…” Nancy said, wanting to close his door before they continued.

“Nancy.”

They started walking. “It’s just a little hiccup so we can see how it’ll go, Hillary. You have to make sacrifices in this business, even if that means seeing your daughter less.”

“She’s only eleven, and I can’t have her be a latchkey kid.”

“She’ll be fine,” Nancy cooed. “My daughter learned to drive when she was seven years old. True story. Drove up and down the 405 every night until she learned how to properly adjust the phonebooks.”

Hillary closed her eyes, and Nancy had an idea. “Have you asked Bill if he’d be willing to help?” Hillary couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I know you two are close, and maybe he’d be willing to…”

“No. And we’re not that close.” They walked towards the dressing room, heels clicking collectively.

“Could’ve fooled me with the way you act around each other. You look like teenagers at a school dance. Hormones raging, socks falling from the knees. I would’ve sworn you were lovers.” They stopped in their tracks.

“Hillary?” Bill said, standing in front of the women, sullen and frazzled. His face was red from crying and although he was a country boy at heart, he was embarrassed about his appearance.

Nancy looked over at her.

“Can we talk for a moment?” he pled, locking eyes. Hillary nodded, slowly entering their dressing room before shutting the door.

<><>

She sat, silence overtaking her. 

“I don’t know that woman,” he said. “I know she’s been at every taping, but I don’t know her, and I don’t want to know her.”

Hillary looked up, voice small. “Do you know the others?”

He squinted, confused. 

“Pam, Lisa, Tiffany, Kate…”

“I’m not in control of women fawning over me. I’ve already told you that.”

“And you think that makes it okay?!”

“I never said I was okay with it!”

“You just—you just blushed and smiled…and…and…!”

“And responded like any man would?!” He instantly regretted the words.

She nodded, consumed with embarrassment. “Is that what you were doing when we met?”

“God, Hillary.” He paced before her, overwhelmed.

“Is that your endgame? To just ‘respond’ to me like any man would?”

“You’re acting crazy.”

“Oh, am I? Is that why you stare at me the way you do? Is that why,” she asked, nearly whispering, “you say my name that way?”

He closed his eyes, so aroused by her voice. “You know that’s not what this is.”

She stared at him, wanting every ounce of his body. “Well, what is it?” she whispered. “Because besides fucking each other over the phone, where’s our potential?”

He walked toward her, lust shooting through his body, his masculinity desperate to join with her feminine essence. He longed to be inside of her. He ran his fingers through her hair, golden tresses willingly shaping to his hand. She naturally opened her mouth, unable to speak as her head leaned into him, rubbing against his palm ever so subtly, his opposite hand tenderly finagling into her wanting lips. She gently kissed his fingers, licking his calloused skin, sucking his phalanges as her thighs widened from his touch. He pulled her hair back to make her look at him, and they locked eyes, knowing that there was no turning back from this moment.

He went to the door and locked it, pausing to see if she’d want to stop.

“Bill?” she whispered, nearly incapable of staying seated, loins churning in desperation of fulfillment.

“Tell me to leave, Hillary. I need to hear the words.”

“I don’t want you to.”

He took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “Tell me,” he demanded, knowing where this sauna of lust would lead. “Tell me to go, Hillary.”

“No.”

“Tell me!”

“No!” she screamed, heart racing as he charged toward her. 

He picked her up and carried her to the couch, ripping off her pantyhose with a swipe of his hand. She ran her fingers through his hair, gripping his gray waves, trying to find any leverage that would provide safety for the ride.

“I want you,” he groaned, pushing up her skirt before finagling a single finger up and down her slit. She let out a deep moan as her lips swelled, preparing for his entry. 

He pulled her panties down, enraptured by her scent and desperate to taste her. “I need you,” he groaned, eyes welling with tears—each drop a reflection of his yearning soul.

As he descended to her heat, she glanced at the clock and was quickened. “I have to go…” she said, pushing him away.

“What?”

“My…my daughter gets off from school in ten minutes and I need to be there when she gets home.” She stood, quickly pulling her panties back up.

“Hillary…”

“I’m sorry,” she said, rushing towards the door. 

“But your…”

She left.

<><><><><>

“Chelsea!” she called hours later, dropping her keys at the door. “Chels?!”

“I’m in the kitchen!” the girl called.

Hillary wiped the hair from her face and took a deep breath. She was still aroused, but she’d deal with that later. A relieved a smile rested on her face as she entered the kitchen.

“Hello, Hillary,” Al drawled, helping Chelsea with her homework. 

She was livid. “What are you doing here?” 

He looked up. “Chelsea lost her key, and I saw her waiting on the porch as I drove by.”

“I think I left it on the bus,” Chelsea moaned, petting Socks the cat. 

“I need for you to leave, Al,” Hillary calmly said, masking her rage.

“But Mom, he’s showing me how to…”

“Now,” Hillary demanded, staring Al down. 

Al licked his lips and stood. “Alright, Chelsea. Just remember the rule about denominators.”

“I will,” the girl said, looking back to her work as Hillary followed him to the door.  
Once he stepped out, she closed the door behind them. “What the hell is wrong with you?! I don’t want you involved with her!”

“So you’d rather have me drive past your helpless daughter when I have the key?”

“Give me the key,” she demanded.

“Hillary.”

“Now!” she screamed.

<><>

Bill rolled up the block squinting at the different house numbers. “1947,” he whispered, getting closer.

<><>

“You need me here with her, Hillary!”

“No, I don’t! I have everything under control.”

“Control?! If it weren’t for me, your daughter would’ve been on the porch for hours. We don’t live in Mayberry, Hillary. Anything could’ve happened to her!”

“You think I don’t know that?!”

<><>

Bill saw them arguing in the front lawn as he pulled up.

<><>

“You know,” Al said. “This is the _exact_ reason why children should know their fathers. I mean, you paint yourself as this perfect family advocate, and here you are raising a daughter all alone.

“Al…”

“And when a man wants to be in her life, you push him away. It’s sick, Hillary. If you really loved her…!”

“I do love her! She’s my whole world!”

“Well maybe you’d stop sleeping with that woman and finally make the right decision!”

Bill couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She felt his presence and immediately turned around. 

“Everything alright?” he drawled, looking Al up and down. 

“Everything’s fine, Bill. Hillary and I were just…”

“Looks like you were just leaving,” Bill said, fists clinched. 

Al nodded, finally realizing. “So, this is the woman, right?” Hillary looked away. “I never pegged you as a woman moved by boyish charm, but I guess I never pegged you for a bad mother either.”

His words hit her deeply, and she swallowed, overwhelmed. Bill stood between Hillary and Al, staring the man down as he left the property.


	8. Relax

“Are you alright?” he asked, almost feeling like he overstepped his bounds. She nodded, flushed. “I’m sorry for just showing up.”

“Don’t be.”

He swallowed, watching her face turn red. “If you’d like me to leave, I could…”

She shook her head. “My daughter,” she said, tearing up, “My daughter is inside, and I just need a moment to collect myself.”

He nodded, gently touching her shoulder. They both sat on the stoop, an aura of connection encasing them.

“I’m not with Al anymore. I only said that to upset you.” She wiped away tears. “And I’m not with a woman, either. I just told Al that to make him think…”

“It’s okay,” Bill drawled, tenderly holding her hand as they stared afar off. “But if you did want to be with a woman…”

She rolled her eyes and cracked a smile. 

“I’m not opposed to girl on girl action,” he said, caressing her palm. 

She loved his humor, but she couldn’t shake off the sting of Al’s words. “I know about your segment request,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Thank you.”

“I figured you’d like that,” he drawled.

She nodded, tears streaming down her face. “I do, it’s just…I don’t think I can continue doing the show anymore.”

“Why?” he asked, heart racing.

“I need to be home for my daughter. I don’t see her in the morning, and I barely get home in time to see her in the afternoon. I don’t have any help,” she said, sitting up straight and clearing her throat. “And she doesn’t deserve to suffer because of my bad decisions.”

Still holding her hand, Bill looked down, trying to find the words. “My dad died before I was born,” he drawled, trying to comfort her. “I don’t know all the research, but in my experience, kids can do just fine raised in a single parent home. I did.”

<><>

Eating a Pop Tart, Chelsea peaked out the window, watching as Bill wrapped his arm around her mother. The girl was intrigued, never having seen her mother with any man, let alone with someone who she knew from TV.

<><>

“Please think about it,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. “Because if you go, I go.”

“That’d be ridiculous,” she said, loving his declaration.

“No, it isn’t. I agreed to this show because of you, and without you, I have no reason to be there.”

She was so flattered. “What if Pam was your co-host?”

“Hillary.”

“Or Kate.”

He chuckled. “I mean it. Me and you, or no show at all.”

She squeezed his hand, and they leaned in close, kissing each other tenderly. When they pulled away, they were breathless, each having experienced the magical touch of their soulmate. They leaned in again, but this time, Bill gently rested his hand on her crown as his other moved down her curved waist. He wanted her, and she wanted him, but like every other time they found themselves at that juncture, they knew it wasn’t possible.

<><>

Chelsea’s eyes grew big as she watched the two make out on the porch. She slowly opened the door, wanting to make her presence known. “Mom?”

Hillary quickly pulled away, wiping her lips. “I’ll be in soon,” she said breathlessly. Bill looked at the girl’s face, and he was stunned.

“Okay,” Chelsea said, closing the door.

Hillary squeezed her eyes shut. “Shit.”

Bill swallowed. 

“Bill?” she said, and he knew it was time for him to go. He kissed her forehead before heading back to the car completely shaken.

“See you tomorrow, Hillary.”

She nodded and watched as he drove off.

<><>

She stepped back inside ready to explain. She had given an attempted version of “the talk” to her daughter a few years before, but she figured it was to give her the standard version. Plus, she had to make a few things clear. She closed the door.

“You know Uncle Jimmy Kalapothakos?!” Chelsea screamed, amazed.

“Uhm…”

“He’s on my favorite show ‘ _Filled Condo_ ’! Mom, do you know the Olbert Twins, too?!”

Hillary licked her lips, tickled. “I don’t, Chels. And I didn’t know you were so well-versed on, ‘ _Filled Condo_ ’, is it?”

“Mom, _Filled Condo_ comes on right before _Matters of Family_ and _Boy Meets Earth_. I watch at every Friday night.”

“Okay, Chels,” Hillary said, taking a seat. “I think we need to talk.”

Chelsea broke off another piece of the pastry and sat down. 

“I know I told you how babies are born, but…”

“ _Mom…_ ,” Chelsea moaned, wincing. “I already know everything.”

Hillary quirked an eyebrow. “What do you know?”

“I know,” Chelsea said, taking another bite, “how sex happens.”

Hillary’s eyes grew big. “Who told you?”

“Everyone knows that, Mom. It’s all over TV. When two people love each other, they hug and kiss, and then they…do it.”

“And what is ‘it’?” Hillary asked.

“Sex. A man’s penis gets…”

“Alright,” Hillary said, standing and walking towards the girl. “Listen, I’ve had a very long day, and I don’t think I can handle the extent of your knowledge right now.”

“Okay,” Chelsea said, shrugging. “But whenever you want to finish…” the girl said, giggling and Hillary patted her face. 

“Go finish your homework.”

Chelsea groaned, dragging her feet back to the kitchen as Hillary climbed the stairs. 

“And we need to talk about your penchant for losing keys, young lady.”

“What’s a ‘penchant’?” Chelsea yelled, still giggling.

“A tendency or inclination.”

“Like how Socks walks on the top of the furniture?”

“Yes!” Hillary yelled, giggling herself as she entered her room.

<><><><><>

His ceiling fan slowly rotated while he straddled Nancy below.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh! Fuck you! Fuck you, Joseph. I hate you!”

“I hate you, too!” he yelled, kissing her passionately as he continued his thrusts. “You’re the worst person I’ve ever met!” he screamed, pushing in hard while squeezing his eyes closed.

“Oh!” she screamed, hands on his ass. “You’re the most disgusting man on God’s green earth!” she yelled, lifting her hips to meet his thrusts.

“Shit!” he moaned, placing his palm on the headboard. “You’re a…you’re a! Augh!” he moaned, coming inside of her.

“Fuck!” she screamed, eyes rolled to the back of her head.

“When, when…when in the course of human events!” Joe screamed, causing Nancy to squint at him.

“The Declaration of Independence, Joe?! Are you crazy?!”

“What?” he asked as she grabbed the sheet and pushed him off her. 

“That was rich, Joe. _Really_ rich,” she said, miffed.

“You know I love American History, Nancy! Don’t act new!”

“Act new?! ‘When in the course of human events’?! That’s fucking insane, Joseph!”

_KNOCK KNOCK_

“Did I not just send you over the fucking moon, Nancy! You haven’t come like that since…”

She gasped.

“Since…since fuckin’… Shit, it’s been a while!”

“How the fuck would you know, you…you…you devil!”

_KNOCK KNOCK_

They looked at each other. “Well, aren’t you gonna answer it, Joseph?”

“You answer it!”

“It’s _your_ house!”

“It’s not a house. It’s a fucking penthouse!” He snatched the sheets off, wrapped a towel around his waist, and headed to the door.

_KNOCK KNOCK_

“Hold the fuck up!” he yelled, taking a minute to unlock the eight locks on his door. “Bill?”

“Hey,” Bill said, looking disturbed as he entered the house. “Got a moment?”

Joe looked back to his bedroom. “I uhm…Nancy’s here. But she can wait,” he said, grinning. “What’s going on, buddy?”

Bill sat, holding his face in his hands, wide-eyed. “Something happened.”

Joe smirked. “Yeah, something happened. I just fucked the hell out of Nancy.”

“Joseph!” she screamed from afar off. 

“Shut the hell up! I’m doing business!” he screamed back, enamored with her. He sat down, making sure to tighten the towel before he did. “What’s up?”

Bill closed his eyes. “I went to Hillary’s place after filming.”

“Oh, _shit_! Bill got some cherry pie! Or rhubarb,” he said, wincing. “It wasn’t rhubarb, was it, Bill?”

He shook his head. “We didn’t fuck, it’s just…” He took a deep breath. “I saw her daughter.”

“Mystery child. I heard Al still hasn’t met her. Rumor has it she doesn’t even have a daughter—just a cat she makes sweaters for,” he said chuckling.

“I think I’m her father,” Bill immediately said.

Joe looked around and quickly shut the door leading to the back room. “Buddy,” he whispered, sitting back down. “I know it’s a little late, but babies are made through sex. And not just imagining sex, but actual, full on dick in pussy. If you haven’t…”

“No,” Bill interrupted, deep in thought. “Other than the $200 I had in my pocket, I was broke when I moved here. And,” he said, amazed, “To make a little money, I donated to the sperm bank over on 7th.”

Joe shrugged. “So?”

“So,” Bill said, talking slowly, “Hillary told me she conceived her daughter through that same bank.”

Joe laughed. “Buddy, listen, everyone’s given some juice to that fuckin’ place. I probably have 70, maybe 80 children all over Los Angeles. Pan pizzas didn’t just buy themselves back in the 80s. I donated whenever I forgot my lunch.” He paused, thinking. “Fuck!”

“What?” Bill asked, concerned.

“What if she’s mine?! I’m a fucking catch. It’d be crazy if she weren’t mine.”

“She’s not yours, Joe.”

“How do you know?!”

“Because she has my fuckin’ nose!” Bill screamed, remembering. “And my fucking hair color, and my fucking eyes!”

“She’s gray-haired? Shit, what a tough life for a little girl.”

Bill closed his eyes. “I wasn’t gray from birth, asshole.”

“Hell, with the way people watch TV these days, who the fuck knows?” He looked over at Bill, calming his humor. “Hey,” he said, sitting next to him, “Everything’ll be okay. If she’s yours, she’s yours, and if she’s not, well, I pity the random kid who is. If my father was a fuckin’ heartthrob, I’d be pissed!” Joe thought back. “Shit! I have 70, maybe 80 people walking around Los Angeles pissed at me!”

Bill stood, still shaken. 

“Where ya goin’?”

“Home,” Bill said, hand on the knob. 

“Well, wait a second,” Joe said, jogging toward Bill. He hugged him, and the man instantly calmed. “I’m here for you, buddy.”

“Thanks, Joe.” 

“And next time…,” he said as his towel dropped. “Fuck.”

“God, Joe!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, grinning. “Big, wasn’t it?”

“Ugh,” Bill scoffed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, tomorrow!” Joe sang as he shut the door. “We’re only a day awayyyy!”

“Joseph!” Nancy screamed.

“What?!” he yelled, walking back to the room.

“Your voice is magical,” she cooed.

“Grrrrr…” he moaned, shutting the door behind him.


	9. Finally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uploading early because I have a busy, busy day. Enjoy.

[](http://s44.photobucket.com/user/anirtakshenwoi/media/IMG_0092_zps6zrgxixc.png.html)

He watched her from across the set as she finger-painted with the children. Whenever she was around them, she was happy, and her smile lit up his entire world. Today’s segment was about summer activities, and while she enjoyed the topic, she was still focused on Chelsea. The girl had been at camp for a month, and although Hillary was happy the girl could expand her horizons, she missed her daughter terribly. The upside to Chelsea being away was that Hillary could spend more time with Bill. They’d decided to take it slow after her declaration about quitting, and although it was hard, Bill obliged, not wanting to push her away. They’d gone out to dinner nearly every night that month, and as each meal concluded, he fell more and more in love with her. 

She glanced over at him and lifted up her blue palm, wishing he’d join the segment. He smiled, enamored by her playfulness and completely content to just watch her. Once it concluded, one of the assistants led her to a sink to clean her up. Bill followed.

“Feelin’ blue?” he asked, leaning against the wall.

The show’s staff was well aware of their relationship and were predictably disgusted by their perpetual flirtation. The assistant gently walked off, and Hillary, palms still blue, playfully touched the tip of Bill’s nose. 

“Cute,” he giggled, wiping off the stain. 

“It is,” she said, hoping he’d have the nerve to touch her. She felt him moving closer, and her skin felt electric. He rested his palms at the curves of her waist, leaning in closer as she continued washing her hands.

“One minute!” the showrunner yelled, but all Bill and Hillary could hear were their pulses humming in unison. She leaned back to his chest, and he gently kissed her forehead, hands moving up her torso resting ever so gently at her breasts.

“Thirty seconds!” the showrunner yelled, but as her hand rested at his cheek, he kissed her fingers, loving the salty, sweet taste. She’d recently gotten a haircut, and he loved the bob, especially when she was off set. He relished in its short length, loving how sexy it looked when wet. He gently sniffed her hair, wanting so badly to run his fingers through it.

“Bill,” she whispered, snapping back to reality. “We only have fifteen seconds.” He nodded and let her go. She turned around and straightened his tie before wiping the last remnant of blue paint from his nose. “Ready?” she asked.

“Ready.”

They walked back to the stage standing two feet apart, hands at their sides, hearts intertwined.

<><><><><>

She dropped her keys at the door and paused, waiting for Bill to enter. “Hurry up,” she giggled, watching him excitedly examine the house. It was his first time inside, and he couldn’t take in enough of his surroundings. She shut the door and immediately went to the thermostat. “Gosh, it’s hot in here. Don’t you think it’s hot?” she asked, fanning herself.

“A little,” he drawled, focusing on the photos of Hillary and Chelsea that hung on the walls. “It’s hotter in Arkansas, so this feels like winter.” He looked at the girl’s familiar face, amazed at how much she looked like him.

“Well,” she said wiping her face, “By Chicago standards, this is hell.” She walked to the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?” she asked, opening the fridge.

“Water, if you have it.”

She smiled. “I do have water,” she said. “I have this state-of-the-art thing in my kitchen called a faucet.”

He smiled and walked into the kitchen. “Do you happen to have this new invention called ‘ice’?”

“I do,” she said, reaching for a glass. His eyes focused on her lower back, the skin revealed as she reached. When her shirttail fell back to place, he lamented the loss. “I have a lot of Hot Pockets still here, if you’d like one…or ten. That’s usually Chelsea’s go-to item,” she said, handing him the glass.

“A Hot Pocket fan, huh?”

She nodded. “And Pop Tarts, but I’ve put a stop to those.”

He took a sip. “Too bad. I eat six every morning.”

She looked at him, shaking her head.

“It’s true,” he said, grinning. “I eat six Pop Tarts and twelve Hot Pockets every morning right along with a vat of ice cream.”

She hit his shoulder and sat at the table. He followed.

“I miss her,” Hillary said, rolling her eyes. “I know that sounds so typical, but…”

“Not really,” he said. “When my brother would go off to camp, my mom would celebrate.”

She smiled, and he gently held her hand. She licked her lips. “It’s definitely been different without her here. A little too quiet. A little lonely.” She took a sip. “Makes me wonder how my life’ll be when she goes off to college.”

He saw his chance and would be damned if he’d miss it. “Well,” he said. “I doubt you’ll be living in this house alone around that time.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?” 

He licked his lips, rubbing his thumb across her palm, “I doubt I can wait that long to get married to you.”

She closed her eyes and crossed her legs. “We barely know each other.”

“Au contraire,” Bill said. “I’d bet we know much more about each other than you’re willing to admit.”

“I doubt that.”

“I know,” he said staring at her intently, “that you are absolutely aroused by my voice.”

She cleared her throat.

“And, I know that you like to suck my fingers when that happens.”

She closed her eyes. “Don’t do this,” she whispered.

He smiled. “Do what?”

“This,” she said. “If _this_ happens, then I’m just a two-bit whore who’ll sleep with a man ten minutes after he enters my house.”

“Now, we both know that’s not true,” he drawled. “As a matter of fact, if you were a _real_ two-bit whore, you would’ve never stopped me in our dressing room.”

She squeezed her thighs together, remembering.

“And,” he said, standing and walking towards her, “You would’ve never asked me to wait.” He caressed her cheek. 

“You’re making this hard,” she whispered, desperate for his long, beautiful fingers to be in her mouth.

“How so?” he whispered, finally running his fingers through her hair.

“Because,” she said, “Because you know what your voice does to me, and you’re purposely making that happen.”

He grinned. “Am I?”

She nodded.

“But, I must say, your voice does the same thing to me, Hillary.” He squeezed his eyes closed, losing his resolve. “And the more you try to stop me, the harder you make me.”

She took a deep breath, trying her best to stay in control, but the more he talked, the wider her knees became. “Billy, I…”

“Billy?” he asked, hard cock rubbing against his zipper, pleated pants seemingly flat.

She swallowed. “Bill…”

“No,” he said, wanting her to say it again. “It’s Billy, Hilly.”

She smiled, running her hand up her chest, fingers caressing her flushed neck. He leaned down and kissed it, causing shivers to shoot down her spine. He gently grabbed her hands and helped her to stand. Pulling her close, he carefully unbuttoned her blouse.

“Tell me to stop,” he drawled, continuing on his quest.

She shook her head, hands reaching down to his belt. 

“I mean it,” he said. “Tell me, or there’s no turning back.”

She licked her lips, unlatching the buckle and unbuttoning his pants. Without unzipping, his cock sprang forward, the hardness of it forcing the zipper to run away from his girth. “Fuck,” she moaned, looking down at it, caressing it through his cotton briefs, tickling it through its open pocket.

“Fuck…” he whispered, gently thrusting forward, trying to think of something, anything, to prolong the moment.

She couldn’t stop staring, and she fell to her knees, carefully uncovering his member, desperate to taste him.

“Hillary…”

“Hmm?” she moaned, rubbing his precum in the shape of a figure eight with her fingertip. She ran her tongue down his entire shaft, and his breath hitched in his throat as he ran his fingers through her hair. When her tongue came back to his head, she licked it happily, and he was convinced the life-force would be sucked out of him along with his seed. She sucked from his head to his base, veins rushing to the surface, his musk filling her senses. He nearly went blind as she continued, not having been so well taken care of in months, wishing he had the willpower to stop her, wanting to finish deep inside her.

“Hill…Hillary,” he moaned, hand still pressing her head, ass still pumping in response to her ministrations. “Baby, please…”

“You taste so good,” she mumbled, squeezing her lips even tighter for his pleasure.

“Shitttt…” he whispered, ready to explode. He pulled away. “Hillary,” he moaned, out of breath as his pulse raced in his cock. “I…I don’t want to end so soon.”

She looked up at him and nodded, her big, blue eyes showing both her innocence and her guilt. He helped her to stand, and once she did, he kissed her passionately, tasting himself on her lips, thrilled that his flavor was there. 

“Let’s go to your room,” he mustered, and she grabbed his hand, leading him towards the stairs.

<><>

He’d calmed a bit once she opened the door—her light pink sheets perfectly made, and the soft colors inviting to his eye. “I need to change,” she said, walking towards the bathroom. 

He grabbed her hand, shaking his head. “Let me,” he drawled, removing her blouse and carefully undressing her. He slowly unlatched her bra, and as her breasts fell to their normal place, her hardened nipples revealed how desperate she was for more touch. He fell to his knees, pulling her close and latching on. He flicked her nipple with a skill so profound that she believed she’d have a letdown response. The more he sucked, the wetter she became, and she bent at the knees, writhing as he cupped her backside firmly. 

“Please…” she begged, and he knew it was time to move along. He lifted her up and carried her to the bed as her legs instinctively wrapped around him.

“Not yet,” he drawled, pulling down her pants. Once he saw her bare thighs in all their glory, he became breathless, almost too excited to see his final prize.

“Bill, please…” she moaned, desperately needing his touch. He tenderly caressed her bare skin, fingers finagling into the sides of her panties, wanting the entire experience to go in slow motion so he wouldn’t miss a single thing. She lifted her backside from the mattress, and he gently pressed her back down. “I can’t take this much longer,” she moaned, sniffing as the tears of longing fell from her eyes.

He removed the lacy garment, bringing it to his nose and inhaling—her smell intoxicating—her juices apparent. He looked down at his prize and swallowed. He’d never salivated so much, and he was absolutely determined to get his fill. He quickly pulled her forward, throwing her knees over his shoulders as he descended to her heat. She was beautifully waxed, glistening before him. Her lips were swollen, pulsating, and aching for his entry. “Please, Bill!”

He closed his eyes. “Please what?”

She moaned, writhing, lifting, pining. “…fuck me.”

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Please!” she begged, opening her thighs wider, pulling him closer with her heels. 

He loved seeing her desperation, and he continued with his slow pace. He ran his nose up her slit, causing it to shine. He followed the same move with his tongue, hearing her guttural whimpers as he did so. He loved the sound.

He focused on her nub, but by the time he licked it, she was already shaking.

“Not yet, baby.”

“I can’t help it,” she moaned, right on edge. He moved her knees from his shoulders and straddled her, slowly entering her heat. He didn’t move once he entered, but she came around his member anyway. “Fuck…”

He couldn’t believe how fast it happened, but he was determined to have that be the first of many. He pulled out of her and pushed back in, causing her to yelp from the pleasurable sensation.

She held onto his backside, basking in the experience of finally connecting with him.


	10. Pillow Talk

As they lay with their legs intertwined, she was happy that it was Friday. The neon clock blinked 2:18am, and neither of them was close to retiring. They’d stayed up the entire night talking about their hopes, dreams, and secrets. He told her about his father’s alcoholism, and she told him about her struggles with body image. He told her she was beautiful, and she cried as he held her close, desperate for her to believe it.

“Tell me something,” she whispered, running her finger across his lower lip. 

“Tell you something?” he asked, kissing her gently.

She licked her lips. “Why haven’t you ever been married?”

He caressed her cheek. “I never met anyone I wanted to marry—not until now.”

She smiled and kissed him back, loving the faint hint of her flavor on his lips. 

“Okay,” he said, thinking of a question. “But I hope it doesn’t offend you.”

“Billy, I work in Hollywood. My entire existence is filled with offense. Ask away.”

He paused, hoping she could take it. “Why did you conceive your daughter through artificial insemination? You’re beautiful, and…I mean, it just seems…”

“I wanted a child,” she said playing with his fingers. “And at the time, I hadn’t met anyone who I wanted to have a child with. I was older, and I knew I only had a short window to make that dream happen.”

He nodded, kissing her again.

“Why do you ask?” she asked, realizing he wanted to talk about it further. 

“Just curious is all.”

She didn’t buy the explanation. “Seriously,” she said, caressing his cheek. “I won’t get upset.”

He closed his eyes, knowing there was no turning back. “It’s just…back in 1979, right after I moved here, I uh…well. I donated to that same sperm bank over on 7th.”

She nodded, not connecting the dots.

“And uh,” he said, giggling to lighten any potential tension, “It’s possible I could be her father.”

She looked away. “I doubt that.”

“Why?” he asked wishing he hadn’t.

“Because,” she said, untangling herself from the sheets, “The description I had of him was very specific, and you don’t meet that description.” 

He nodded, lying on his back. 

“I asked for a tall, dark-haired man with a 145 IQ.”

He squeezed his eyes closed, thinking back to that long ago IQ test where he scored 145.

“And I asked for someone with a deep appreciation for the arts. Someone who had a wonderful personality and big, blue eyes…” She covered her mouth. 

“Hillary…”

She immediately jumped out the bed. She thought back to the description and eyed Bill, recognizing her daughter in his features.

“Hillary, please.”

“You look…” she swallowed. “I think you need to leave.”

He stood, walking towards her. “Let’s just talk about this.”

“No.”

“Baby…”

“This can’t be.”

“Why not, Hillary? I love you.”

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “I’ve already hurt her enough.”

He squinted, wondering what she meant. “How would this hurt her?”

She swallowed, stunned. “She would go from having no father to having been obsessed with her father on her favorite sitcom? That’s insane, Bill.”

“It’s not,” he said, trying to calm her down. “I…I know this is difficult, but…”

“Difficult? ‘Difficult’ doesn’t even begin to describe it,” she said, heading to the bathroom. He followed her.

“Don’t you see, Hillary? What are the odds that you and I would ever do a show together let alone connect after…after…?”

“After you got me pregnant even though we’d never met? God, this has to be some kind of record. We fucked twice and had a baby before we were ever in the same room!”

“Hillary!”

“Have I lost my mind?” she asked, throwing on her robe. “Chelsea doesn’t deserve this.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders, looking deeply into her eyes. “Listen to me. I love you,” he repeated, hoping against hope she would hear him. “And I know this is a lot right now, but if I am her father, I’d love to be in her life.”

Her eyes grew big, and she immediately snatched away from him, tightening her robe. “Please go,” she said, walking back to the bedroom.

“Hillary.”

“Please,” she begged, overwhelmed. “I need to be by myself right now.”

He nodded, grabbing his clothes from the floor.

“This can’t be possible,” she whispered, trying to convince herself more than him. She stared at his nose and his eyes, wondering if he ever had copper hair.

“I didn’t mean…I…I’m sorry, Hillary.”

She looked away, waiting for him to gather his things. 

“When you calm down, can you please call me?” he drawled, choked up.

She didn’t respond, and he left her standing in the middle of the room, the last eleven years suddenly painted in a different light.

<><><><><>

He hadn’t left the apartment for days, even skipping out on their Monday taping. She hadn’t called him, even though he’d called her more times than he could remember. He was desperate. 

He’d spent that Monday watching reruns of _Filled Condo_ on VHS. “ _Everywhere you look, everywhere you look_ ” he sang, starting another episode. 

_KNOCK KNOCK_

He glanced at the door and looked back towards the television. “ _A hand to hold on to…_ ”

“Bill!” Joe screamed, banging on the door again. Bill begrudgingly stood, and once he unlocked the door, Joe burst in, furious. “Where the fuck were you today?!”

Bill turned around, unaffected. “Home.”

Joe was stunned. “Home? Ho…are you fucking crazy?! We scrambled to find a fucking replacement for you, and you know who we came up with?!”

“Who?” Bill asked nonchalantly, slamming himself to the couch.

“Fucking Barack! God, if there’s anyone who can compete with your ratings, it’s that guy! They’re thinking about replacing you, ya crazy asshole!”

“Let ‘em,” he said, rewinding the tape. “It’d probably be for the best anyway.”

Joe’s eyes grew big, and he snatched the remote, throwing it across the room. “Care to explain?!”

Bill licked his lips.

“Well?!”

He closed his eyes. “Hillary and I had a fight.”

Joe became even more stunned. “And?! Nancy and I fight all the time! We just kick and scream and fuck it out, and then things are peachy until the next time there’s sexual tension! That’s the game, Bill. Fight. Fuck. Fun. Gosh, you’d think a guy who gets so much pussy would understand this!”

“It wasn’t a normal fight. I fuckin’ told her about the sperm bank.”

Joe sat. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

He rubbed his face with his hands. “Shit, Bill. You told her that shit? How the fuck did it come up?”

“Well,” he said, thinking back, “We were in bed and…”

“You fucked her?! Damn, how was it? Cherry or rhubarb, Bill. Come on. Joey needs to know.”

“Be serious,” Bill said, still choked up. 

Joe nodded.

“We were talking about things—about life. And we were asking each other questions.”

“Alright.”

“And I asked her why she conceived her daughter artificially, and then it just…came up.”

Joe nodded, amazed. “So, you told her you’re the father?”

Bill shook his head. “I just told her I might be, and that if I was, I’d want to be in the girl’s life.”

“ _Fuuuuck_ …” Joe said, standing and pacing. “No wonder you’ve gotten through life so long without having kids. Billy, baby, listen to me, alright? You could’ve played the hero, but instead, you’re the fuckin’ villain.”

Bill was confused.

“You have her fall in love with you. You do all the romantic shit: proposal, ring, wedding, all the bullshit, right? And _then_ you tell her you’d love the child as your own. Then whoops,” he said, dropping his keys, “Oh dear, I’ve found the paperwork from my sperm donation, Hillary.” He picked up his keys. “Says here that I fucked a plastic cup in 1979. Hmm, anything interesting happen to you that year?”

“It’s not that easy!”

“Like fuck it’s not!”

Bill looked away, miffed.

“Bill,” Joe said, calming down. “You need to come back to set tomorrow. I know it may be hard, but fuck, so is my cock most of the time. We got a deal?”

Bill nodded.

“Good. See you in the morning.”

“Hey, Joe?”

Joe turned around.

“Can you give me Nancy’s number? Hillary’s not answering my calls, and I need to get Nancy to convince her to.”

Joe smiled. “Got a pen?”

Bill grabbed one from the end table and flattened his palm. 

“818-555-2016. And the best time to reach her,” he said, looking at his watch, “is right now. She’s never busy right now, at this time, every single week.”

“Great,” Bill said picking up the phone. “Thanks, Joe.”

“You’re welcome,” Joe said, grinning as he left the apartment.


	11. Recompense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter for today, guys, but I'm sure you won't mind ;-) Enjoy!

In the middle of her deep tissue massage, Nancy reached for the phone. “ _Hellooooooo_ ,” she moaned.

“Nancy?”

“Bill?”

He swallowed.

“Is it the show?!” she screamed, sitting up. “Have we been cancelled?!”

“No…” 

“You want to leave Joe?” she asked, thrilled. “I’ll draft up the paperwork tonight, and believe me, you won’t regret the switch.”

“No, no,” he whispered, teary. “I’m calling because, well…Hillary isn’t uhm… She’s not returning my calls.”

She was deflated. “…and now you’re calling me because I’m her friend, and you think I can get through to her?”

“Yeah.”

She looked over at the clock and lay back on the table. “Fine.”

“What?” He was so confused.

“I’ll talk to her. I’m not making any promises, but I’ll talk to her about it.”

He took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, hanging up and turning to the masseuse. “Lovers. Drama. Lust,” she said, lying back down. “Shit!” she screamed sitting back up. “That’s an excellent show idea! Joe would love it! But no,” she whispered. “I can’t tell him! He’s a scoundrel!” She thought back. “But he’s a sweetie…” She dialed Hillary’s number. “But he’s a thief!”

<><>

As soon as Hillary finished tying her shoes, the phone rang. She looked at it but decided to leave anyway. She needed time alone, and whoever it was could wait.

<><>

Bill immediately answered the phone, hoping Hillary was on the other end. He swallowed before…

“Bill?” Nancy said. “Geez, have you ever heard of ‘hello’?”

“I’m sorry, Nance. Did you talk to her?”

“No,” she delicately said. “But the only time she doesn’t answer is when she’s out hiking.”

“Hiking?”

“MmmHmm…” she said, picking her nails.

He knew that he shouldn’t, but he just had to know. “Where does she normally hike?”

Nancy sat. “Bill, why isn’t she talking to you?”

He closed his eyes, too embarrassed to reveal. “I said something that I shouldn’t’ve said.”

“You said you liked her ass, didn’t you?”

“No…”

“Men think that’s a complement, but all we hear is that we have big asses. And who wants to hear that in LA? In this business, a big ass means that your days are numbered.”

“But, I didn’t say she had a big ass.”

“But did you _think_ it?” 

“I…well, I mean. She has a nice ass.”

“But do you think it’s big?!”

“Yes, but…Nancy!” he screamed, losing his bearings. “Listen. I told Hillary that I think I could be Chelsea’s father.”

She was stunned. “How the hell did you come up with that?”

“I donated to the same sperm bank the same year she got pregnant, and when I saw the girl, I couldn’t help but see the resemblance.”

“Wow.”

“I know.”

She thought back. “She looks like you.”

“Yeah,” he drawled, shaking his head. “I know this sounds crazy and all, but…”

“And you told Hillary this?” She shook her head. “Bill, if there’s one thing you should know about Hillary, it’s that she is fiercely protective of that little girl. Any threat to her daughter sets her off.”

“Fuck,” he whispered, overwhelmed.

Recognizing his distress, she leveled with him. “She’s at Wildwood Canyon Park. Go talk to her.”

He quickly stood, looking around the room for his pants. “You said ‘Wildwood Canyon’?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, knowing that she’d said too much. “And be gentle with her, Bill. She has a tough exterior, but she’s a softie at heart.”

He nodded.

<><><><><>

He saw her afar off stopping to smell the wildflowers by the trail. He noticed the bags under her eyes, each crescent showing how little she’d slept since they’d last spoken. She carefully stood back up, dusting off her pants and continuing up the trail. She walked slower as she ascended the hill, and Bill saw his chance to catch up with her.

“Hillary?”

She turned around, staring at him afar off, watching as his long legs lifted at the ascension, wishing she’d never met this man who changed her life in the most profound way. She was desperately attracted to him, and watching his pale legs rise as he walked towards her only deepened those feelings. His gray hair had gathered dust from the climb, and as she continued staring, she saw how easily he could’ve been the donor. The thought made her heart flutter.

“Hillary,” he called again, breathless. 

“Bill.”

Time stood still as they stared at each other. She was beautiful, he thought, especially without makeup. He wanted to tell her that, but he knew he should keep his words to a minimum. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“For what?” she whispered, never moving her gaze.

He walked towards her. “I never meant to make you uncomfortable, and I’d understand if you don’t want to see me anymore.”

She closed her eyes. What could she say? The sun was setting, and she could feel the warm breeze caressing her skin as it rustled through the foliage. She hated the feeling, but she loved him. She wished she could burn it away, but she loved him. She hated him, but she loved him, and she wanted nothing more than to make love to him. “I don’t want that,” she whispered, overwhelmed.

“What do you want, Hillary?” He rested his hand on her shoulder, and she covered it with her own. She loved his skin, wishing he’d dare to touch her neck. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it,” he drawled, playing with the ends of her hair.

She licked her lips, losing her resolve as his scent filled her nostrils. “I want us to continue.”

He was relived. 

“But be patient with me,” she said, eyes welling with tears. 

He nodded.

“And understand,” she said, wiping her eyes, “that I never expected to meet you. You were a vial, Bill. Just this…incredibly life changing vial.”

He held her hands, staring deeply into her eyes. “I love you, Hillary. I can’t explain it, but I absolutely love you. And if you’ll have me,” he drawled, choked up, “I’d love to be more than that vial ever could.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “You’re already much more than that vial.”

He smiled, hugging her close. “Good. I wouldn’t want to compete with a long-ago, microscopic portion of myself.”

She laughed. “It was only business back then, Bill. An arrangement.”

“I’m glad that arrangement worked out, darlin’.”

“Me, too,” she whispered, head resting to his chest as his hands rubbed her back. She slowly pulled away, looking at his face again and seeing her daughter’s features. “She has your eyes…and your lips.”

He smiled, resting his hands behind her ears. 

“And your hands,” she said, amazed. “She has these long, slender fingers, and she certainly didn’t get that from me.”

Bill stretched out his hand. “I guess they are long and slender.”

She nodded, licking her lips. He gently ran his finger across the lower, and she opened, tongue tasting his rough skin, the digit salty and inviting. His breathing became shallow, as he hardened. He took a small step back, not wanting her to feel it. She released his finger and stepped closer to him, and he stepped back again, giggling as he did. “What?” she asked, giggling, too.

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

He giggled more, holding her at arm’s length. “Don’t come closer,” he drawled.

“Why?” she asked, coming closer. “Have I excited you?”

He turned red, wanting to ravish her. “Seriously, Hill. We’re still making up.”

“Mmm…” she moaned, arousing him further. “I’m sure this is an aspect of making up,” she said, licking her lips as she stared. 

His eyes rested at half-mast, fighting the urge to fuck her on the trail. “I’m serious, Hillary. Don’t start something you don’t wanna finish.”

She smiled, running her hand from his chest to his member. “We’re all alone,” she whispered.

Hearing rushing water, he looked around, confused. 

“Come on,” she said, grabbing his hand.

<><><><><>

She led him to the waterfall, the gushing sounds drowning out the wildlife, their breaths muted by the rushing water. She looked around to make certain they were alone, and she nodded, mouth opening to let him know it was time. He nodded, pulling her closer as his lips descended to hers. She rested her hand at the nape of his neck, fingers twisting his curly hair. After a moment, they released and gasped, taking in as much of the fresh air as they could before beginning again. She lifted his shirt, exposing his skin to the elements as the spray collected on his chiseled body. He lifted her shirt, too, hands immediately unlatching her bra, her breasts suddenly drenched with those wild drops, her perfect mounds glistening under the orange sun. She unbuttoned his pants, noticing that he was throbbing from the containment, and once he was free, she gripped him with her palm. She felt his pulse beating through her hand, and he was convinced he’d burst. “Baby,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. “Please, let me love you first.” 

And she let go, giving him the control he so desperately desired. He was pleased, lifting her at the waist and carrying her across the pond as she squeezed his torso with her thighs. The position only helped her natural urge, and she gently humped his midsection on their journey. He laid her down on the rocks, carefully placing his shirt under her head for comfort. He removed her pants, and she opened her thighs, toes already curling in anticipation. He tickled her feet while he got comfortable, knowing she was ready to burst. Once settled, he ran his hand from her knee to her heat, enamored by every pore of her skin, studying it like a scientist. Her other leg instinctively wrapped around him, but he gently laid it back down, cooing her for patience. She moaned under his power, wanting so badly for things to move faster, but he was in control. “Focus on the water,” he drawled, kissing her belly button as he slowly removed her panties. He begrudgingly placed them by the other clothes when he’d normally bask in the glory of their scent. Instead, he smelled her directly, amazed by the little hairs that had begun growing back, enamored with her uneven lips. He opened them with his ring finger and thumb, using his index and middle to collect her juices to coat her expanse. She moaned in pleasure, lifting her backside as he gently held her belly down. “The water, Hilly. Focus on the sounds.”

He wrapped his lips around her nub, sucking it ever so gently, flicking it with his flat tongue. He released it, running his tongue along her inner lips, paying special attention to the vein at the top, noticing she shivered whenever he made contact with it. Pleased by her motion, he focused on the side, moving his tongue next to her pearl, yet refusing to make further contact. He repeated this move on the opposite side, positively tender while leaving her almond all alone. “Please,” she moaned, needing that contact, opening her thighs impossibly wider while drenched from her own juices.

“Not yet,” he simply drawled, opening her lips with his thumbs and moving his tongue in and out of her entrance. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she clinched her fists, right on edge. He noticed and pulled away. He moved his hands up her sides, amazed at her tiny waist. He kissed her belly, running his tongue from her heat to her navel and continuing his journey from her navel to her chest. He took a hard nipple into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue, biting it ever so gently to elicit moans from her longing mouth. She needed to taste him, and his teasing only made her craving intensify. He moved to her other nipple, and once he made contact, she yelped. He was pleased, learning that it was the more sensitive of the two. Releasing, he ran his tongue across her breast and back to her chest. She squirmed as he ran it up her neck, tickling her behind the ear. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, sucking her lobe as his fingers found their way back into her mouth. She gripped his wrist, not wanting those phalanges to leave her. He loved her kink, running his tips along her yearning tongue, slowly pulling out as she greedily sucked them back in. He smiled as he watched her, knowing this was only the beginning. He removed his fingers.

“Billy,” she begged, lifting her hips in attempt to find any friction she could. “Please” she moaned. “I need you.” He was desperately aroused by her voice, willing to do anything to please her. He paused. “Please,” she moaned again. “I can’t take this much longer,” she whined, setting him on edge. He nestled between her thighs, his throbbing cock longing to be inside of her. He grabbed his member, positioning it at her entrance, and she immediately he grabbed his ass, trying her best to pull him forward. “Please, Billy,” she yelped, nearly coming from that tiny downstairs kiss. “Please fuck me.” He squeezed his eyes closed, slowly moving his hips forward, cock grazing her uniquely ribbed walls, squeezed by her longing muscles.

“Fuck…” he moaned, hilting inside of her.

The waters rushed as they made love, the spray cooling their heated bodies—the calming sounds drowning out their heightened moans. A warm breeze swept by, comforting them like a blanket and wrapping them in a cocoon of love.


	12. Joy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a few chapters left. Enjoy!

They held hands under the table during the commercial break, desperately in love. The show had been picked up for a full season, and they were thrilled about the news. On this final episode before their month-long break, they were happy about its success and about their own. It had been four months since they’d met, and two since they became official. Neither of them had ever been happier, and as time went on, they knew further steps had to be taken. Besides their initial glance, Bill and Chelsea still hadn’t met, and Hillary was fine with that until…

“Mom,” Chelsea asked while cuddling with her on the couch the night before. “Let’s invite Bill over for dinner.”

She was speechless.

Chelsea looked up. “Mom?”

“Yes?” she said, heart racing. She wasn’t ready for this, and she certainly wasn’t ready to let Chelsea know who he really was. 

“Can we invite Bill Clinton over for dinner? You can make your famous cookies.”

“Chels,” she said, repositioning herself, “The only thing I know how to make _is_ cookies. It’s a miracle you’re still alive, sweetie.”

Chelsea sneezed. “You make good spaghetti.”

“With Prego, my dear.”

“I like your toast. You put butter _and_ jelly on it,” she said, giggling.

Hillary kissed her forehead, still worked up about the idea. 

“So can you invite him? And can I invite Sarah, too? She _looooves_ him, Mom.”

Hillary closed her eyes. “I’ll think about it, Chels. I promise.”

“Alright,” the girl said, running off and leaving Hillary to fester in her own worry.

<><>

The hot studio lights beamed on them, and with the rise in temperature, Hillary was certain she could feel every grove of Bill’s hand. It was a lovely sensation.

“In five, four, three…”

They begrudgingly let go, each facing the camera.

“Welcome back to ‘It’s Morning’ with Bill and Hillary,” she said, having become a natural in front of the camera. 

“Because it’s the end of summer,” Bill read, “We wouldn’t want to leave you without some final grilling tips from our guest Grillmaster and Democratic presidential canditate John Stamos!”

Stamos emerged from backstage to a rousing applause. Bill and Hillary immediately put on red aprons, readying for the segment. 

“Have mercy,” President Stamos said, causing Bill to laugh. “That was your catchphrase on _Filled Condo_ right?”

“It was ‘Have clemency’, Senator Stamos,” Bill said, causing the audience to roar. “But ‘Have mercy’ sounds better.” 

“Good one,” she whispered in Bill’s ear, and he wrapped his arm around her, their love apparent.

<><><><><>

They stared at each other from across the dressing room, making faces. 

“What?” she asked, giggling.

“You tell me what!” he replied, licking his lips.

She nodded, remembering Chelsea’s request. “I don’t cook,” she said, avoiding the issue.

He quirked his eyebrows. “I know that. It’s why I bring you lunch every day.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “I mean, I don’t cook. I make spaghetti, kind of. And I make cookies. But I only know how to make cookies, because I said something on my show about women who make cookies, and it became a whole thing, and so…”

“Hillary,” he said. “What are you trying to ask me, darlin’?”

She took a deep breath. “Chelsea wants you to come over for dinner.” He was stunned. “She asked me about it last night, and I promised her I’d ask you.”

He nodded, wide-eyed. “How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you told her we’re together?”

“No.”

He nodded. “Have you told her I’m her…?”

“God, no, Bill. I haven’t told her anything— _foolishly_. God, I need to tell her something,” she whispered overwhelmed. He noticed.

“If you’re not ready for me to come…”

“It’s not that, Bill. I just don’t know how to tell her any of this. She never even knew I was with Al all those years.”

“You’re kidding.”

She looked up. “I’m not. She never knew.”

“Baby,” he said, sitting next to her and pulling her close. “He was at your house most nights of the week. She never ran into him while getting a midnight snack?”

She shook her head. “He’d come by late and leave before she woke up. The one time she did see him, I told her he was fixing my bathroom. He’d had a guest spot on that pilot “Improvement House,” so he was already in costume.

He thought for a moment. “Do you want her to know we’re together?”

“I do,” she whispered.

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “I think she may be able to handle that. If she’s anything like me, she’ll take it fine.”

She smiled. “She’s a lot like you. Maybe too much like you.”

“How so?” he asked, excited to hear.

“She does that thing you do when you eat.”

“What thing?”

“That thing where you poke out your lips while you’re chewing. And she holds her cups from the top like you do.”

“Is she left-handed?” he asked, wanting to know so much more. 

“Right handed. But she smiles like you do when she’s sleepy,” Hillary said, getting emotional. “And…and she…”

“Shh…” he cooed, pulling her closer. “How about I take the test first? That way, we can have our ducks in a row before the dinner.”

She looked at him. “How will I get Chelsea to swab her mouth?”

“If she’s anything like me,” he drawled, “just dip it in sugar first.”

<><><><><>

When Hillary opened the door that afternoon, she was greeted with Chelsea and Sarah blasting [“Step by Step”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ay6GjmiJTPM) while dancing around the living room. They didn’t realize that she entered the house, nor did they see her grinning as she stared. 

“Mom!” Chelsea screamed, jumping off the couch.

“Chelsea. Sarah.”

“Hi Ms. Rodham.”

Hillary nodded. “Have you girls eaten?” she asked, heading to the kitchen. 

“We wanted to order a pizza, but we didn’t have any money.”

Hillary took a deep breath. “Go get the number.”

“Yes!” the girl’s screamed, running upstairs. 

Hillary took out the small swab kit she’d picked up from the lab. She took pride in how she had always been honest with her daughter, and the last thing she wanted to do was end the streak by using Bill’s sugar suggestion.

“Can we get pineapple?” Chelsea asked, picking up the clamshell phone. 

Hillary nodded. “But order another pizza with peppers, please. The hotter the better.”

Chelsea nodded. 

<><><><><>

That night, Hillary sat on her bed as Chelsea stood in the doorway. The girl’s long hair hung wildly. Hillary waved the girl towards her, and they cuddled on the bed.

“I love you, my baby girl.” She kissed her forehead.

“I love you, too. I just don’t understand how you can eat such spicy pizza.”

Hillary smiled. “I don’t understand the appeal of pineapple.”

“It’s sweet,” Chelsea giggled as Hillary tickled her. The girl’s smile looked so much like Bill’s, and she swallowed, determined to have the conversation.

“Have you ever wondered about your father, Chelsea?”

The girl quirked her eyebrow and looked down. “Sometimes.” She never wanted to bring him up, thinking that it would hurt Hillary’s feelings.

“And what do you wonder about when you do?”

She paused, grinning. “I wonder if he likes to play soccer, like me. And I wonder if he’s tall.”

Hillary swallowed.

“And I wonder if he likes pineapple on his pizza,” she said, giggling. 

Hillary smiled, holding her closer. 

“Why?” Chelsea asked.

Hillary licked her lips. “Because…” she took a deep breath. “I just want to know if you’ve ever wondered about him—if you’ve ever wished he was in your life.”

Chelsea rested her hand on Hillary’s cheek. “I don’t know him or anything, so I don’t know what it would be like. He might be like Sarah’s dad,” she said, wincing. “He picks his teeth while he eats.”

“Eww…”

“Yeah,” the girl said. “And he wears his pants really high—almost to his throat.”

Hillary thought, pursing her lips. “If you could know your dad, would you want to?”

Chelsea took a moment, really thinking of her answer. “I would. But only if he’s nice. And only if he likes cats.”

“Because of Socks?”

She nodded. “And because people who like cats are good people.”

Hillary smiled. “What would you say if…” she paused, getting choked up. 

“What?” Chelsea asked, resting her palms on Hillary’s cheeks just like Bill does. The gesture wasn’t lost on her.

Hillary composed, swallowing her emotions as best as she could. “I need you to do something for me.”

Chelsea squinted, surveying her mother’s face, seeing that the woman was serious about her request. “Okay.”

Hillary nodded, relieved. “I…I need for you to rub this thing,” she said, opening the kit, “against your cheek. Then I want you to put it in this container.”

“Why?”

Hillary licked her lips. “I need to send it to the lab, and that’s all I can tell you right now, honey.”

Chelsea nodded. “Can we do it right now?”

Hillary nodded, overwhelmed but centering herself. When they completed the task, they sat in silence. 

“If you find him,” the girl whispered, trying to calm her mother, “Ask him if he likes horses. Ashley’s dad rides horses with her, and I’d like to try that, too,” she said, voice trailing off.

Hillary’s nose flared, and she hugged Chelsea close, kissing her crown.


	13. Connection

Inside his office, Nancy and Joe made out on his desk. He’d proposed marriage four times that week, and she denied every one, aiming for the fifth request.

“I love you,” he moaned devouring her again.

“I love you more,” she moaned, rubbing his crotch. 

He pulled back. “Enough to say ‘yes’, Pants?”

“Joseph,” she said breathlessly, kissing him again. “I’m a virgin. You should ask my father for my hand, you rebel.”

He burst into uncontrollable laughter, turning red and wheezing. 

“What?”

He held his chest, desperate for air as he continued.

“Tell me what it is,” she demanded.

“It’s…it’s just. Nance, I know we do the whole roleplay thing, but come on. A virgin? You haven’t been a virgin since birth!”

“Oh!” she slapped him, but he continued laughing. “You’re scum!”

“Baby,” he cooed, grabbing her hands and pulling her close. “You saying you’re a virgin is like me saying that I’m _not_ the sexiest man you’ve ever been with. And you _know_ that would be a lie.”

“You’re not! I’ve been with sexier men!”

“Name one!”

“Fine! Fabio? Remember him?”

“You’ve never been with fucking Fabio! And if you have, he’s not that sexy!”

“He’s a fucking horse!” she yelled, shocking Joe.

“Fine!” he yelled, offended. “I’ve been with Cindy Crawford!”

“You liar!” she screamed, pulling his hair. 

“I have! I even measured the mole, and let me tell you, Nance, it’s bigger than you could possibly imagine!”

_KNOCK KNOCK_

“Fuck!” Joe screamed. “Why does everyone want to swing by when we’re getting at it?!”

She smiled. “When are we not trying to get at it, Joey?”

He grinned. “Oh, baby,” he cooed. “I love when you call me that.” He tickled her, but right as he lifted her shirt, he heard more knocking. “Fuck.”

“It’s probably them,” she said, straightening her blouse. “And I hope you printed the updated contracts.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, opening the door. “Whoa…Al?”

<><><><><>

Bill and Hillary sat in the lab, holding hands and staring forward. “You’re her father,” she whispered, astounded. 

He nodded, even more amazed. “I have a daughter,” he whispered, unblinking.

She nodded as they continued staring forward. “Can I ask you a question, Billy?”

He turned to her, eyes desperate to connect with hers, the mother of his child, the love of his life. 

“Do you like horses?”

<><><><><>

Joe zipped his pants. “What the hell are you doing here, Al?”

He cautiously walked in. “Sorry to interrupt,” the man drawled, waving at Nancy. “But I need your help.”

Nancy was wide-eyed. “My help?”

Al nodded. “I…I haven’t talked to Hillary in months, and I miss her.”

“Oh, fuck,” Joe said, walking to his desk.

“She’s the love of my life, and I’d die if I can’t get her back.”

Nancy and Joe locked eyes. “Albert,” Nancy said, walking towards him. “Don’t you have something else to live for? I heard they made Zane Charles a ghost. That’s great, right?”

“With no speaking lines!” he lamented, causing Joe to giggle. “I’m an actor!”

“And…” Nancy cooed, sitting him down. “The _real_ acting occurs _without_ lines. Look at silent actors. No words. All face.”

He calmed. “You’re right, Nancy, but I still miss Hillary,” he whined. “I’m sure she misses me, too.”

“She doesn’t,” Joe interrupted eating candy. “She’s been with Bill for, how long, Nance, two, maybe three months?” Al’s eyes grew big. “Fuckin’ each other from sunup to sundown. It’s a miracle they don’t have eleven hundred children,” he said, laughing so hard he fell out his chair. 

“I thought that was a fling—like Tipper and I?” Al whispered, stunned. He turned to Nancy. 

“They are together,” she gently said. 

“Forever?” he asked, sullen.

“At least until the end of next season,” she cooed.

<><><><><>

They held hands as she opened the door, and they didn’t let go once they entered.

“Mom?!” Chelsea called from upstairs. Bill’s heart quickened when he heard her, and Hillary squeezed his hand to calm him. 

“Down here, Chels.” She turned to Bill. “It’s all gonna be okay.”

“Okay,” he whispered.

“She’s wanted to meet you for years.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Ever since _‘Filled Condo’_ ,” she said, reminding him. He nodded.

“Mom,” Chelsea called, holding Socks. “He fell as he was walking around the tub, but I think he’s okay.”

“Chelsea,” she said, and the girl looked up, staring at Bill.

“Hi Chelsea,” he drawled, face red.

She put Socks down, staring deeply at Bill’s face. “Hi.” She knew.

“I’m…Bill. Bill Clinton.” He stretched out his hand, and when she touched his palm, he couldn’t believe she was real.

“I’m Chelsea,” she said, nervous.

He nodded, unable to stop looking at her. “You have a cat?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, picking Socks back up. “His name is Socks.”

“Socks?” he asked, rubbing that cat’s head. “I have a dog named Buddy.”

Chelsea smiled. “Mom says dogs are too much work.”

“Does she?” he asked, smiling at Hillary. “No harder than cats.”

“But cats are sneakier,” Chelsea added, leading Bill to the couch. “And I can’t leave my cup around, or he’ll knock it over.”

Bill smiled, absolutely amazed by the girl. “I had a cat that used to do that.”

Hillary stared at them, overwhelmed with emotion, and amazed that the man who helped to create her daughter was suddenly in their lives.

<><><><><>

Late that night, a freshly showered Hillary walked down the steps and saw Bill and Chelsea still talking.

“A soloist?” he asked, not remotely tired. “I’m sure you’ll make it.”

“I hope so,” the girl said. “Tina is in high school now, and she was my biggest competition.”

He grinned. 

“Hey, what kind of movies do you like?” Chelsea asked, so excited about knowing her father. 

“Oh, lots of movies. My favorite is _High Noon_.”

“Chels?” Hillary called. The girl turned around. “Time for bed, sweetie.”

“But Mom,” she lamented, not wanting to leave Bill. “Bill was just about to explain _High Noon_.”

“Tomorrow,” Hillary said, holding the girl close. “You can finish your whole conversation tomorrow.”

Chelsea nodded and turned to Bill. “Tomorrow,” the girl said.

“Tomorrow,” he said, absolutely in awe.

She looked down before walking toward him. She hugged him close, and he wrapped his arms around her. “Good night,” she said, grabbing Socks and running upstairs. 

Once she left, Bill bowed his head, tears streaming down his face. Hillary licked her lips as she watched him cry. She’d never been so moved. “Billy?” She sat down and wrapped her arms around him. “Bill…”

“She’s incredible,” he mustered. “Just…so much like you. So smart…so beautiful.”

She closed her eyes. “She’s a lot like you, too.”

He wiped his nose, overwhelmed. “Thank you,” he mustered, squeezing Hillary’s hand. 

“For what?” she whispered, running her fingers through his hair. 

“For making her. And for choosing me to help you make her.”

She licked her lips as she pulled him closer. 

“And thank you for tonight,” he drawled, sniffing. “It’s been one of the greatest nights of my life.”

She kissed him, resting her hand on his cheek and playing with his ear. “Mine, too,” she said, choked up. “She needs you.”

He nodded, holding Hillary closer. She was the foundation of his entire world, and he suddenly understood what it meant to touch the past, present, and future in a single moment.


	14. Ride

[](http://s44.photobucket.com/user/anirtakshenwoi/media/IMG_0101_zpsxkd9f6wk.jpg.html)

“Gosh,” Hillary lamented, having stepped in another cow pie. 

Holding Chelsea’s hand, Bill looked back and laughed. “Need some help, darlin’?”

Hillary shuffled her foot across the clean grass, wincing as she did. “I thought this was an animal free trail,” she said as Bill grabbed her hand. 

“But Mom,” Chelsea said leaning against Bill, “It’s a free range farm. The cows can go everywhere.”

Hillary took a deep breath. “Well, that’s the best I can do,” she said, shaking her foot.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bill cooed, wrapping his arm around her as they walked towards the stable. “I’m sure there’ll be much more horse shit once we get across the field.”

“Bill.”

Chelsea giggled, loving his vulgarity. 

“That’s _not_ an allowance for you to say that word, Chels.”

“But _Dad_ said it,” she giggled as he pulled her closer.

Hillary smiled. “Just because your father said a bad word doesn’t mean you can.”

“Alright,” Bill drawled, tickled. “Ahem...I’m sure there will be much more ‘horse manure’…” Chelsea laughed even harder, and so did Hillary. “…once we get to the stable,” Bill said, kissing Hillary’s forehead.

“You’re both gonna get it,” Hillary said as they kept walking. 

Bill wrapped them both in his arms. “Do you plan to ride?” he asked Hillary.

“Yeah, Mom, aren’t you gonna ride?”

Bill looked down at Hillary with a sly grin, and she hit his shoulder. “I’m only here to take pictures, so make sure to have fun.”

<><><><><>

She watched them from afar, eyes periodically focusing on the lush mountains, lungs expanding from inhaling the abnormally fresh air. Bill was tender towards their girl, showing her how to hold the saddle straps and making her giggle as they trotted across the field. To Hillary, it was all magical. While she’d been beaten and battered by Hollywood, she had also been blessed by its insanity. 

“Hey!” Bill and Chelsea called, waving to her as she snapped a dozen pictures. She waved back, smiling. “Wanna ride yet?!” he called, still using the phrase to be dirty.

“Maybe later, Bill.”

He giggled and focused his attention back to Chelsea. Hillary’s heart fluttered as she watched them.

“Whoa…” he said to the horses, stopping them so Chelsea could get a better position on the saddle. “There you go,” he cooed, running his fingers through the girl’s hair. “Ready?” he asked. 

“Ready,” she said, and Bill clicked his tongue, causing both horses to trot forward.

Hillary let her camera fall back to her chest—the strap hanging from her neck as she watched them. She held onto her nauseated midsection, taking deep breaths in effort to calm it. She’d been sick for weeks and was stunned when her doctor told her she was pregnant. She knew that Bill would be thrilled by the news. She certainly was.

“Hill!” he called, waving her over. She carefully walked through the field, trying her best not to step in any more manure. When she got to him, he bent down and kissed her gently. 

“What was that for?” she asked.

“I just love you,” he said, gently caressing her cheek. She squeezed his hand and gently kissed his lips.

“Yuck,” Chelsea said, causing both Bill and Hillary to giggle. “Get a room.”

They looked to her. “And what would that mean, Chelsea?” Hillary asked as she suppressed a smile.

“It would mean that you could make out in private…and do _other_ things in private,” she said, grinning.

“We don’t do other things,” Bill said, unable to hide his smile. He turned to Hillary. “That’s only for marriage,” he drawled, staring deeply into her blue eyes with the ring nestled in his back pocket. He’d bought it months before, but he wanted to make the proposal extra special. He planned to ask her that afternoon under the stars, but he was nervous. She would say yes, wouldn’t she?

“That’s right,” Hillary said, nearly drowning in Bill’s blue orbs. “Marriage only. Only hugs and kisses before then.”

“Yeah, right,” Chelsea said, clicking her tongue for her horse to move. As she trotted away, Bill and Hillary continued staring, both saying much more with their eyes than with their mouths. 

“Did you mean that?” he drawled, wanting to ravish her right there. 

“For her, I did,” she whispered. “No sex until she’s 40.”

He nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Did you…?” she stopped herself.

“What?”

“Did you mean what you said...about marriage?”

He squeezed her hand. “If I did,” he whispered, “we’d be in trouble.”

She smiled. 

He felt the ring burning a hole in his pocket, and his mind started racing. “Ride?” he asked, trying to calm down.

She nodded, and he helped her up, sitting her in front of him as he wrapped his arm around her midsection. 

“You alright?” he asked, kissing her cheek.

“Mmmhmm…” she said, leaning back. 

“Now hold on,” he said, holding her tighter. And she did, feeling safe in his strong arms. She rested her hand atop his, wondering if he somehow knew.

As they trotted forward, his heart fluttered.

She weaved her fingers into his, pressing his hand further.

He quirked an eyebrow and followed suit.

She licked her lips, pressing even further.

“I have you, Hilly. Don’t worry.”

“But,” she said, “I want to make sure you have him.”

He stopped the horse. “What?”

She refused to face him, now using both hands to press his. “Him,” she said, rubbing his fingers.

Bill’s breath quickened, and all the colors of those lush mountains seemed highlighted. “Him?” he asked, voice shaking. 

She nodded, wiping away tears as she continued staring forward.

“We….we’re having a baby?” he asked, overcome with emotion.

She nodded again, squeezing his hands as she sniffed.

“A baby!” he screamed, causing the farmhands to turn in their direction. He dismounted the horse, helping her down and spinning her around once he did. “A baby!” he screamed again, kissing her passionately as he held her in his arms.

“You’re happy?” she asked, wiping away tears.

“I’m happier,” he drawled, tears streaming down his cheeks, face as serious as ever. “Than a pig rolling around in fresh mud,” he whispered as he held her closer.

<><><><><>

That night, long after Chelsea had gone to bed, they sat at the foot of the mountains cuddled in each other’s arms. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked for the fourth time, determined to make sure Hillary was well fed. 

“No, Billy,” she cooed, cuddling closer.

He nodded, kissing her forehead. “You see those stars up there?” he asked, pointing.

“Mmmhmm…”

He swallowed. “Every single one of those stars is from the past. How we see them right now is not how they actually are. And,” he said, trying to steady his breathing, “all of those stars are ghosts looking down at us in this very moment.”

She looked at the sky then turned toward him. 

“And,” he drawled, voice shaking, “I’m glad for that.”

She knew something was up, and her heart raced. “Why?” she whispered. He locked eyes with hers, and she watched as his hand reached into his back pocket, taking out the most beautiful diamond ring she’d ever seen. It rested at the center of his palm, surrounded by his moonlit skin, sparkling just like all those stars.

“Because, I need the Universe,” he said, choked up, “to help me ask for your hand.”

She carefully picked up the ring, eyes wide and filled with tears. “It’s beautiful.”

He smiled and stood before getting down on one knee. He grabbed her hand, every ounce of her skin magical to him. “Hillary, will you marry me?”

She hugged him close, kissing him repeatedly. “Yes,” she whispered, not wanting to let him go. He held her even closer, glancing at the sky and winking before kissing her hair.


	15. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this story. I especially appreciate your comments :-) They mean the world to me.

“I like Andrew,” Chelsea said, throwing her backpack over her shoulder. “Or Charlie.”

“I like Charlie,” Hillary said, flipping through the baby name book as her hand rested on her extended belly. She was eating a Pop Tart. “And Harry.”

“Like the prince.”

Hillary nodded.

“Let’s go, Chels,” Bill said, ready to drive her to school. Hillary smiled at him as he entered the kitchen, still so enamored by him. “And sit tight, Mrs. Clinton. Your husband will be home soon.”

“You tell that to your son,” she whispered, not wanting Chelsea to hear. “If he keeps moving around like this, I may need to take matters into my own hands.”

He grinned slyly. “Well,” he said, walking towards her. “In that case, you can get started before I return. But once I do,” he said, kissing her ear, “I’ll finish.”

“I’m gonna be late!” Chelsea yelled from the door. 

“On my way, baby girl!” He turned back to Hillary. “Be back soon.”

“Very soon, I hope.”

He smiled, heading to the door.

Hillary turned on the small, television on the kitchen counter and was amazed by what she saw. Joe and Nancy were standing beside Ann Richards as she got her star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. She thanked them both as she made her speech and referenced their joint agency, “Bidosi.” “Incredible,” she whispered, happy for them. 

She flipped the channel and saw Al finally speaking on _Weeks of Our Existence_ , and she was stunned. But the longer she watched, she cringed at his monotone voice, prompting her to turn again. 

Finally, she happened upon the episode of _Filled Condo_ when Bill got his mullet cut off. She knew the look of panic on his face was not scripted, and she giggled, rubbing her belly as the baby moved. “Thank God that happened,” she whispered. “We don’t want your dad walking around like Billy Ray Cyrus,” she said, completely at peace.


End file.
